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T:  rMLlSHBD  .W  THE 


THE 


PILGRIM’S  PROGRESS 

FROM 


THIS  WORLD  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  TO  COME 


DELIVERED  UNDER  THE  SIMILITUDE  OF  A  DREAM. 

/ 

_ 

BY  JOHN  BUNYAN. 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE 

AMERICAN  TRACT  SOOXETI?, 

NO.  144  NASSAU-STREET,  NEW. YORK. 


D.  Fanshaw  Printer. 


Great  pains  have  been  taken  in  collating  this  edition  with  other  copies,  in 
order  to  render  it  a  correct  reprint  of  the  original  work.  The  original 
side  notes,  which  often  throw  much  light  on  the  text,  have  been  pre¬ 
served. 


This  volume  is  perpetuated  through  the  liberality  of  Rev.  E.  Burgess, 
Dedham,  Mass. ;  Nicholas  Brown,  Esq.,  Providence;  Hon.  Stephen  Van 
Rensselaer,  Albany  ;  and  Messrs.  James  Roosevelt,  S.  V.  S.  Wilder,  Jo¬ 
seph  Brewster,  John  Rankin,  Wm.  M.  Halsted,  R.  T.  Haines,  Charles 
Starr,  and  G.  Ilallock,  New-York. 


H  x  0  ;£  L 

s5c  TTi  *js^  '■ 

s.ev,  jroKEsr  btjsjvait. 

I  he  Rev.  John  Runyan,  the  celebrated  author  of  The 
Pilgrim  s  Progress,  and  many  other  useful  works,  was  born 
at  El  stow,  near  Bedford,  England,  in  the  year  1G28. 

His  parents  were  very  poor,  but  gave  him  the  best  educa¬ 
tion  in  their  power.  Such,  however,  was  his  extreme  de¬ 
pravity,  that  he  addicted  himself,  even  in  childhood,  to  the 
basest  practices,  particularly  to  cursing  and  swearing, in  which 
he  exceeded  the  worst  of  his  wicked  companions,  and  arrived 
at  such  a  sad  pre-eminence  in  sin,  that  he  became  the  ring¬ 
leader  ot  the  profane. 

let,  amidst  all  these  enormities,  God  left  not  himself  with¬ 
out  a  witness  in  his  bosom,  lie  had  many  severe  checks  of 
conscience,  and  terrifying  thoughts  o {  hell.  After  days  spent 
in  sin,  his  dreams  were  sometimes  peculiarly  frightful.  The 
fears  ot  death  and  judgment  intruded  into  his  gayest  hours. 
A  copious  narrative  of  these  early  conflicts  and  crimes  is  to 
be  found  in  his  treatise  entitled,  Grace  abounding'  to  (he  Chief 
nj  Sinners,  i.  he  Lord  was  also  pleased  to  grant  him  several 
remarkable  deliverances  from  death.  Once  lie  fell  into  the 
liver  Ouse;  at  another  time  he  fell  into  the  sea,  and  narrow¬ 
ly  escaped  being  drowned.  When  lie  was  seventeen  years 
of  age  he  became  a  soldier;  and,  at  the  siege  of  Leicester, 
being  called  out  to  stand  sentinel,  another  desired  to  take  his 
place ;  he  consented,  and  his  comrade,  who  took  his  place, 
was  shot  through  the  head  with  a  musket-ball. 

But  neither  mercies  nor  judgments  made  any  durable  im- 
piession  on  his  hardened  heart.  He  was  not  only  insensible 
of  the  evil  and  danger  of  sin,  but  an  enemy  to  everv  tiling 
seiious  I  be  thought  of  religion,  or  the  very  appearance  of 
it  in  others,  was  an  intolerable  burden  to  him. 

1  he  fiist  step  toward  his  reformation  was  his  marriage  with 


4 


THE  LIFE  OF 


a  woman  whose  parents  were  accounted  religious.  Being 
extremely  poor,  she  had  brought  him,  as  her  whole  portion, 
two  books,  The  Practice  of  Piety ,  and  The  Plain  Man's  Path¬ 
way  to  Heaven.  In  these  they  sometimes  read  together;  and 
his  wife  often  talked  to  him  of  the  godly  life  of  her  father. 
By  these  means,  and  especially  in  consequence  of  hearing  a 
sermon  against  Sabbath-breaking,  he  formed  some  resolu¬ 
tions  of  reformation,  and  of  performing  a  few  religious  du 
ties,  which  he  then  thought  would  be  enough  to  carry  him  to 
Heaven.  His  convictions  were  not,  however,  sufficient  to 
keep  him  from  his  beloved  sports,  even  in  the  afternoon  of 
that  Sabbath  on  which  he  had  received  them,  when,  being 
engaged  in  a  game,  a  sentence  w  as  impressed  on  his  mind  so 
forcibly  that  he  thought  it  like  a  voice  from  Heaven,  Wilt 
thou  leave  thy  sins  and  go  to  Heaven ,  or  have  thy  sins  and  go  to 
Hell  1  This  excited  dreadful  consternation  in  his  mind,  which 
was  instantly  followed  by  suggestions  that  he  was  an  enor¬ 
mous  unparalieled  sinner — that  it  was  now  too  late  to  seek 
after  Heaven — and  that  his  transgressions  were  beyond  the 
reach  of  mercy.  Despair  reached  his  mind,  and  he  formed 
this  desperate  conclusion — that  he  must  be  miserable  if  he 
left  his  sins,  and  miserable  if  he  continued  in  his  sins;  and 
therefore  he  determined  to  take  his  till  of  them,  as  the  only 
pleasure  he  w  as  likely  to  have.  It  may  justly  be  feared  tha» 
multitudes  perish  by  such  temptations  as  these.  Their  lan 
guage  is,  “  There  is  no  hope — but  we  will  walk  after  our  own 
devices,  and  w’e  wrill  every  one  do  the  imagination  of  his 
evil  heart.” 

Contriving  how  to  gratify  himself  with  sin,  yet  deriving  no 
satisfaction  from  it,  he  continued  about  a  month  longer;  when 
it  pleased  God  to  give  him  another  severe  check  by  means  of 
a  woman,  wrho,  though  a  notorious  sinner  herself,  wras  so 
shocked  at  the  oaths  he  uttered,  that  she  told  him  “he  was 
the  most  ungodly  fellow'  for  swearing  that  she  had  ever  seen 
in  her  life,  and  that  he  was  enough  to  spoil  all  the  youth  in 
the  town,  if  they  came  into  his  company.”  By  this  reproof, 
from  such  a  person,  he  was  entirely  confounded  ;  and  from 


REV.  JOHN  BUNYAN. 


5 


that  moment  he  refrained,  in  genera!,  from  swearing,  though, 
before,  he  scarcely  ever  spoke  a  sentence  without  an  oath! 

About  this  time  he  had  several  remarkable  dreams,  in 
which  he  thought  that  the  earth  shook  and  opened  her  mouth 
to  receive  him  that  the  end  of  the  world  and  the  day  of 
judgment  were  arrived.  Once  he  dreamed  that  he  wps  just 
dropping  into  the  flames  among  the  damne.d,  and  that  a  per¬ 
son  in  white  shining  raiment  suddenly  plucked  him  as  a 
brand  out  of  the  fire.  These  dreams  made  impressions  on 
his  mind  which  were  never  forgotten,  and  perhaps  inclined 
him,  many  years  after,  to  publish  the  masterpiece  of  all  his 
w°rks,  The  Pilgrim’s  Progress,  under  the  similitude  of  a 
dream. 

boon  aftei,  he  fell  into  the  company  of  a  poor,  serious  man, 
whose  discourses  of  religion  and  of  the  Scriptures  so  affected 
him,  that  he  applied  himself  to  reading  the  Bible,  especially 
the  historical  parts  of  it. 

By  degrees  a  reformation  of  manners  took  place,  which  be¬ 
came  so  remaikable,  that  his  neighbors  were  greatly  sur¬ 
prised  at  it,  and  often  complimented  him  upon  it.  By  these 
commendations  he  w-as  greatly  puffed  up  with  pride,  and 
began  to  think  himself  a  very  good  Christian,  and,  to  us-e  his 
own  words,  “that  no  man  in  England  could  please  God  bet¬ 
ter  than  lie.  But  ail  this  wras  only  lopping  off  the  branches 
of  sin,  while  the  root  of  an  unregenerated  nature  still  re¬ 
mained.  With  much  difficulty,  and  by  slow  degrees,  he  re¬ 
frained  from  his  accustomed  diversions  of  dancing  and  ring¬ 
ing ;  he  relinquished  the  latter  from  the  apprehension  that 
one  of  the  bells,  or  even  the  steeple,  might  fall  and  crush 
him  to  death.  But  hitherto  he  remained  ignorant  of  Christ, 
and  was  going  about  to  establish  his  own  righteousness.”  He 
was  still  of  that  generation  “  who  are  pure  in  their  own  eyes, 
and  yet  not  washed  from  their  filthiness.” 

Not  long  after,  Ihe  providence  of  God  so  ordered  it,  that 
he  went  to  work  at  Bedford,  and  happening  ^o  hear  some 
women,  who  w  ere  sitting  at  a  door,  talk  about  the  things  of 
God,  his  curiosity  induced  him  to  listen  to  them,  but  be  soon 

1* 


6 


THE  LIFE  OF 


found  their  conversation  above  his  reach.  They  were  speak¬ 
ing  of  the  new-birth,  and  the  work  of  God  on  their  hearts 
— how  they  were  convinced  of  their  miserable  state  by  na¬ 
ture — how  God  had  visited  their  souls  with  his  love  in  Christ 
Jesus;  with  what  promises  they  had  been  refreshed,  comfort¬ 
ed,  and  supported  under  affliction  and  temptations.  They 
also  talked  of  the  wretchedness  of  their  own  hearts,  and  oi. 
their  unbelief — of  renouncing  their  own  works  and  righteous¬ 
nesses  insufficient  to  justify  them  before  God.  All  this  ap¬ 
peared  to  be  spoken  in  such  spiritual  language,  in  such  a  se¬ 
rious  manner,  and  with  such  an  air  of  Christian  joy  and  cheer¬ 
fulness,  that  he  seemed  like  one  who  had  found  a  new  world. 

This  conversation  was  of  great  service  to  him.  He  now 
saw  that  his  case  was  not  so  good  as  he  had  fondly  imagined  ; 
that  among  all  his  thoughts  of  religion,  the  grand  essential  of 
it — the  new  eikth — had  never  entered  his  mind — that  he  had 
never  derived  comfort  from  the  promises  of  God — that  he 
had  never  known  the  plague  of  his  own  heart,  having  never 
taken  notice  of  his  secret  thoughts — and  that  lie  was  entire¬ 
ly  unacquainted  with  Satan’s  temptations,  and  the  way  to  re¬ 
sist  them.  He  therefore  frequented  the  company  of  those 
persons, to  obtain  information;  his  mind  became  constantly 
intent  upon  gaining  spiritual  knowledge,  and  his  whole  soul 
was  so  fixed  on  eternal  things,  that  it  was  difficult  to  draw  his 
mind  from  heaven  to  earth.  He  now  began  to  read  his  Bi¬ 
ble,  as  it  were  with  new  eyes  ;  it  became  inexpressibly  sweet 
and  pleasant  to  him,  because  it  held  forth  a  Savior  whom  he 
now  felt  the  want  of.  Reading,  meditation,  and  prayer  to  un¬ 
derstand  the  Scriptures,  were  the  employments  in  which  he 
delighted. 

Now  the  enemy  of  souls  assaulted  him  with  his  tempta¬ 
tions.  One  of  the  principal  was,  whether  he  was  elected  or 
not  ?  But  it  pleased  God  to  relieve  him,  by  the  application  of 
that  Scripture,  “  Look  at  the  generations  of  old,  and  see.  did 
ever  any  trust  in  God  and  were  confounded?”  This  gave 
him  much  encouragement,  as  if  it  had  been  said,  “  Begin  at 
Genesis,  and  read  to  the  end  of  the  Revelation,  and  try  if  you 


REV.  JOHN  BUNYAN. 


7 


can  find  any  that  ever  trusted  in  God  and  were  confounded; 
and  if  none  that  trusted  in  God  ever  miscarried,  then  your 
duty  is  to  trust  in  God,  and  not  to  concern  yourself  about 
election,  which  is  a  secret  thing.” 

Another  temptation  that  violently  assaulted  him,  was, 
“How  if  ihe  day  of  grace  should  be  past  and  gone  ?”  But 
after  many  days  spent  in  bitterness  of  spirit,  he  was  relieved 
by  that  blessed  word,  “Compel  them  to  come  in, that  my 
house  may  be  filled and  “  yet  there  is  room.” 

Many  more  were  his  temptations,  of  which  the  reader  may 
find  a  large  account  in  his  grace  abounding,  above  referred  to. 
But  the  Lord,  who  knows  how  to  deliver  the  godly  out  of 
temptation,  was  pleased  to  deliver  him  out  of  all  his  spiritual 
distresses,  and  to  fill  his  soul  with  joy  and  peace  in  believing. 

To  this  happy  event,  under  the  blessing  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
the  conversation  he  had  with  experienced  Christians,  and  the 
valuable  labors  of  Mr.  Gifford,  then  Minister  of  the  Gospel 
at  Bedford,  were  chiefly  conducive.  When  twenty-seven 
years  of  age,  Mr.  Bunyan  joined  a  congregation  of  pious 
Christians  at  Bedford.  His  natural  abilities,  eminent  grace, 
and  the  remarkable  temptations  he  had  experienced,  soon 
pointed  him  out  as  a  proper  person  for  the  ministry.  Curi¬ 
osity  naturally  excited  multitudes  to  attend  his  preaching,  and 
he  soon  found  that  his  labors  were  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord. 

Such  were  his  diffidence  and  modesty,  that  at  first  he  thought 
it  incredible  that  God  should  speak  to  the  hearts  of  sinners  by 
his  means.  But  he  was  encouraged  by  many  seals  of  his  min 
istry.  His  views  of  the  wrork,  and  his  method  in  it,  deserve 
notice  and  imitation.  The  Lord  gave  him  much  compassion 
for  perishing  sinners.  He  studied  with  great  diligence  to  find 
out  such  words  as  might  awaken  the  conscience,  exhibit  Christ 
in  all  his  infinite  fullness,  and  show  the  sinner  that,  except  in 
his  precious  atonement,  there  is  no  salvation. 

“In  my  preaching,”  says  he,  “the  Lord  did  lead  me  to  be¬ 
gin  where  his  word  begins,  with  sinners ;  to  condemn  all  flesh, 
and  to  open  and  alledge  that  the  curse  of  God  doth  lay  hold 
on  all  men,  as  they  come  into  the  world,  because  of  sin. 


8 


THE  LIFE  OF 


This  part  of  my  work  I  fulfilled  with  the  terrors  of  the  law, 
and  guilt  for  my  own  transgressions  lying  heavy  on  my  con¬ 
science.  7  went  myself  in  chains,  to  preach  to  them  in  chains; 
and  carried  that  fire  in  my  own  conscience,  of  which  I  per¬ 
suaded  them  to  beware.  I  have  gone  lull  of  a  sense  of  guilt 
and  terror,  even  to  the  pulpit  dQor,  and  there  it  hath  been  ta¬ 
ken  off,  and  I  have  been  at  liberty  in  my  mind  until  I  have 
done  my  work,  and  then  immediately  it  has  returned  as  hea¬ 
vily  as  before;  yet  God  carried  me  on,  and  surely  with  a 
strong  hand,  for  neither  guilt  nor  hell  could  take  me  off  my 
work. 

“  Thus  I  went  on  for  the  space  of  two  years;  after  which 
the  Lord  came  in  upon  my  soul  with  some  sure  peace  and 
comfort  through  Christ,  giving  me  many  sweet  discoveries 
of  his  blessed  grace,  And  I  did  much  labor  to  hold  forth 
Jesus  Christ  in  all  his  offices,  relations,  and  benefits,  unto  the 
world:  and  did  strive  also  to  discover,  to  condemn,  and  to 
remove,  those  false  supports  on  which  the  world  lean,  and  by 
depending  on  them,  fall  and  perish. 

“  When  I  have  been  preaching,  my  heart  hath  often,  all  the 
time  of  this  and  the  other  exercises,  with  great  earnestness, 
cried  to  God  that  he  would  make  the  word  effectual  to  salva¬ 
tion;  wherefore  I  did  labor  so  to  speak  as  that  thereby,  if 
possible,  the  sin,  and  the  person  guilty,  might  be  particula¬ 
rized.  And  when  I  have  done  the  exercise,  it  hath  gone  to 
my  heart  to  think  the  word  should  now  fall  as  rain  on  stony 
places ;  still  wishing,  ‘  O  that  they  who  have  heard  me  did  but 
see  as  I  do,  what  sin,  and  death,  and  hell,  and  the  curse  of 
God,  are!  and  what  the  grace,  and  love,  and  mercy  of  God 
are, through  Christ,  to  men  who  are  yet  estranged  from  him! 
And  indeed  I  did  often  say  in  my  heart  before  the  Lord, 
that  if  to  be  hanged  up  presently  before  their  eyes  would  bo 
a  means  of  awakening  them  and  confirming  them  in  the  truth, 
I  could  gladly  consent  to  it. 

“  I  never  cared  to  meddle  with  unimportant  points  which 
were  in  dispute  among  the  saints,  yet  it  pleased  me  much  to 
contend  with  great  earnestness  for  the  word  of  faith,  and  tha 


REV.  JOHN  EUNYAN. 


9 


remission  of  sins  by  liie  sufferings  and  death  of  Jesus.  I  saw 
my  work  before  me  did  run  in  another  channel,  even  to 
carry  the  awakening  word;  to  that,  therefore,  I  did  adhere. 

“  If  any  of  those  who  were  awakened  by  my  ministry  fell 
back,  I  can  truly  say,  that  their  loss  hath  been  more  to  me 
than  if  my  own  child  had  been  going  to  its  grave.  My  heart 
hath  been  so  wrapped  up  in  the  glory  of  this  excellent  work, 
that  I  counted  myself  more  blessed  and  honored  by  it,  than 
it  God  had  made  me  emperor  of  the  Christian  world,  or  the 
lord  of  all  the  glory  of  the  earth,  without  it.  Oh,  the  se  words, 
He  that  convertelh  a  sinner  from  the  error  of  his  way  doth 
save  a  soul  from  death ;’  ‘  They  that  be  wise  shall  shine  as  the 
brightness  of  the  firmament,  and  they  that  turn  many  to 
righteousness,  as  the  stars,  for  ever  and  ever;’  James,  5  :  20. 
Dan.  12:  3;  these,  With  many  others  of  a  like  nature,  have 
been  refreshments  to  me. 

“My  great  desire,  in  fulfilling  my  ministry,  was  to  get  into 
the  darkest  places  of  the  country,  because  I  found  my  spirit 
leaned  most  after  awakening  and  converting  work;  and  the 
word  that  I  carried  did  lean  itself  most  that  way  also  ;  ‘  Yea, 
so  have  I  strived  to  preach  the  Gospel,  not  where  Christ  was 
named,  lest  I  snould  build  on  another  man’s  foundation.’  ” 
Rom.  15 :  20. 

This  fidelity  excited  many  enemies;  and  the  time  in  which 
he  lived  being  a  time  of  persecution  for  conscience  sake,  he 
was  thrown  into  prison,  and  there  continued,  in  the  whole, 
for  twelve  years. 

lie  was  enabled  to  bear  this  tedious  imprisonment  patient¬ 
ly.  The  Lord  was  very  gracious  to  him.  “I  never  had,” 
he  said,  while  in  prison,  “  in  all  my  life,  so  great  an  insight 
into  the  word  of  God  as  now.  Those  Scriptures  which  I  saw 
nothing  in  before,  are  made,  in  this  place  and  state,  to  shine 
upon  me.  1  have  had  sweet  sights  of  the  forgiveness  of  my 
sins,  and  of  my  being  with  Jesus  in  another  world.  ‘  O,  the 
Mount  >sion,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  the  innumerable  com¬ 
pany  of  angels,  and  God  the  judge  of  all,  and  the  spirits  ol 
just  men  made  perfect,’  and  Jesus,  have  been  sweet  unto  me 


10 


THE  LIFE  OF 


in  this  place  !  I  have  seen  that  here,  which  I  am  persuaded 
I  shall  never,  while  in  this  world,  be  able  to  express.  I  have 
seen  a.truth  in  the  words,  ‘  Whom  having  not  seen,  ye  love; 
in  whom,  though  now  ye  see  him  not,  yet  believing,  ye  re 
joiqe  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory.’ ” 

The  thoughts  of  his  afflicted  family  would  sometimes  press 
upon  his  mind,  especially  the  case  of  one  of  his  four  children, 
who  was  blind.  Mr.  Bunyan  was  a  man  of  strong  affections, 
a  tender  husband,  and  a  very  indulgent  parent.  But  he  was 
supported  under  this  affliction  by  these  two  Scriptures, 

Leave  thy  fatherless  children,  I  will  preserve  them  alive; 
and  let  thy  widows  trust  in  me.’’  The  Lord  said,  “Verily 
it  shall  be  well  with  thy  rerpnant ;  verily  I  will  cause  the 
enemy  to  entreat  thee  well  in  the  time  of  evil.” 

He  was  not  idle  during  his  long  and  severe  confinement, 
but  diligently  studied  his  Bible,  which,  with  the  book  of  Mar¬ 
tyrs,  composed  his  whole  library.  His  own  hands  also  min 
istered  to  the  necessity  of  his  indigent  family ;  but  he  was  still 
more  usefully  employed  in  preaching  to  all  who  could  gain 
access  to  the  jail,  and  with  a  spirit  and  a  power  that  surprised 
his  hearers. 

It  was  here  also  that  he  composed  several  useful  treatises, 
especially  the  The  Pilgrim’s  Progress,  a  book  which  has 
done  as  much  good,  perhaps,  as  any  other,  except  the  Bible ; 
and  by  writing  which,  he  has  probably  been  more  useful  than 
if  he  had  enjoyed  the  unrestrained  exercise  of  Ins  public  min¬ 
istry.  In  composing  it,  he  was  evidently  favored  with  a  pe¬ 
culiar  measure  of  the  Divine  assistance.  Within  the  confines 
of  a  jail,  he  was  able  so  to  delineate  the  Christian’s  course, 
with  its  various  difficulties,  perils,  and  conflicts,  that  scarcely 
any  thing  seems  to  have  escaped  his  notice.  The  most  accu¬ 
rate  observer  will  hardly  find  one  character,  either  good  or 
bad,  or  one  fatal  delusion,  or  injurious  mistake,  which  is  not 
essentially  pointed  out  in  the  Pilgrim's  Progress.  The  book 
suits  all  the  various  descriptions  of  persons  who  profess  god¬ 
liness,  and  relates  the  experience,  temptations,  conflicts,  sup¬ 
ports,  and  consolations  of  Christians  in  our  own  times,  as 
exactly  as  if  it  had  been  penned  for  their  own  immediate 


REV.  JOHN  BUNYAN. 


11 


benefit.  Cowper  has  spoken  of  this  book  and  its  author  in 

the  following  manner : 

Oh  thou,  whom,  borne  on  fancy’s  eager  wins? 

to  the  season  of  life’s  happy  spring*, 
t  pleased  remember,  and  while  niem’ry  yet 
‘‘  Ilolds  last  lier  office  liere,  can  ne’er  forget. 

“  Ingenious  dreamer,  in  whose  well-told  tale, 

<•  ^c^’on  sweet  truth  alike  prevail ; 

"  Whose  liura’rous  vein,  strong  sense,  and  simple  style* 
u  teach  the  gayest,  make  the  gravest  smile; 

,  'Vltt7’.  find,  well  employed,  and  like  thy  Lord, 

4i  Speaking  in  parables  his  slighted  word. 
i  ^,llaine  tnee  not,  lest  so  despised  a  name 
“  Should  move  a  sneer  at  thy  deserved  fame  ; 

“  *et  e’en  in  transitory  life’s  late  day, 

“That  mingles  all  my  brown  with  sober  gray, 

“  Revere  the  man  w  hose  Pilgrim  marks  the  road, 

And  guides  the  Progress  of  the  soul  to  God.” 

The  narrative  is  so  entertaining,  that  the  heart  becomes  in¬ 
terested  in  the  event  of  every  transaction ;  ministers  may 
draw  from  it  the  most  valuable  instruction,  as  a  text-book  to 
be  used  in  their  private  meetings  ;  and  parents  may  with 
great  advantage  select  portions  of  it  to  be  read  and  explained 
to  their  children. 

After  the  Lord  had  accomplished  what  he  had  designed  in 
the  works  written  by  this  man  of  God  in  his  dreary  solitude, 
>e  at  length  disposed  Dr.  Barlow,  then  Bishop  of  Lincoln, 
and  others,  to  pity  his  undeserved  sufferings,  and  to  interest 
themselves  in  procuring  his  enlargement. 

His  active  spirit  soon  improved’the  liberty  afforded  him; 
he  visited  the  people  of  God  in  several  places,  especially  the 
afflicted,  tempted,  and  persecuted,  to  whom  he  was  now  well 
qualified  to  speak  a  word  in  season.  He  took  this  opportu¬ 
nity  of  paying  his  grateful  acknowledgments  to  his  friends 
whose  kind  assistance  he  had  experienced  in  prison ;  and  as' 
occasion  offered,  he  preached  the  Gospel  with  great  boldness' 
and  acceptance,  particularly  to  the  congregation  at  Bedford, 
of  whom  he  was  now  chosen  minister. 

Amidst  all  his  popularity  and  success,  he  was  kept  humble, 
and  was  seldom  or  ever  known  to  speak  of  himself.  His 
whole  behavior  was  exemplary,  so  that  malice  herself  has  not 
>een  able  to  find,  even  on  the  closest  inspection,  a  si  rigid" 
stain  dn  his  reputation  and  moral  character. 


1*2 


THE  LIFE  OF  REV.  JOHN  BUNVAN. 


His  valuable  life,  worn  out  with  sufferings,  age,  and  minis¬ 
terial  labors,  was  closed  with  a  memorable  act  of  Christian 
charity.  He  was  well  known  under  the  blessed  character  ot 
a  peace-maker.  He  wras  therefore  desired,  by  a  young  gen¬ 
tleman  in  the  neighborhood  of  Bedford,  to  interpose  as  a  me¬ 
diator  between  him  and  his  offended  father,  who  lived  at 
Heading,  in  Berkshire  :  this  friendly  business  he  cheerfully 
undertook,  and  happily  effected.  But,  in  his  return  to  Lon¬ 
don,  being  overtaken  with  excessive  rain,  he  came  to  a 
friend’s  on  Snow  Hill,  very  wet,  and  was  seized  with  a  vio¬ 
lent  fever,  the  pains  of  w’hich  he  bore  with  great  patience, 
resigning  himselt  to  the  will  of  God,  desiring  to  be  called 
away,  that  he  might  be  with  Christ,  looking  upon  life  as  a 
delay  of  that  blessedness  to  which  his  soul  was  aspiring,  and 
after  which  it  was  thirsting.  In  this  holy,  longing  frame  of 
spirit,  after  a  sickness  of  ten  days,  he  breathed  out  his  soul  into 
the  hands  of  his  blessed  Redeemer,  August  12,  1688,  aged  60. 

II  is  natural  abilities  wrere  remarkably  great;  his  fancy  arid 
invention  uncommonly  fertile.  His  wit  was  sharp  and  quick, 
his  memory  very  good,  it  being  customary  with  him  to  com¬ 
mit  his  sermons  to  writing  after  he  had  preached  them.  His 
works  are  collected  in  twro  volumes  folio,  and  contain  as 
many  treatises  as  he  lived  years.  His  judgment  was  sound 
and  deep  in  the  essential  principles  of  the  Gospel,  as  his  wri¬ 
tings  sufficiently  evince.  His  piety  and  sincerity  toward  God 
were  apparent  to  all  who  conversed  with  him.  He  constant¬ 
ly  maintained  the  God-like  principle  of  love,  often  bewailing 
that  there  should  bo  so  much  division  among  Christians.  He 
was  a  man  of  heroic  courage,  resolute  for  Christ  and  the  Gos¬ 
pel,  and  hold  in  reproving  sin,  both  in  public  and  private ;  yet 
mild,  condescending,  and  affable  to  all.  Thus  lived  and  died  a 
man,  in  whose  character,  conduct,  and  usefulness,  that  Scrip¬ 
ture  was  remarkably  verified,  “  Ye  see  your  calling,  breth¬ 
ren,  how  that  not  many  wise  men  after  the  flesh,  not  many- 
mighty,  not  many  noble,  are  called  ;  but  God  hath  chosen  the 
foolish  things  of  the  world  to  confound  the  wise — that  no 
flesh  should  glory  in  his  presence.” 


THE 


AUTHOR’S  APOLOGY  FOR  HIS  BOOK 


When  at  the  first  I  took  my  pen  in  hand 
Thus  for  to  write,  I  did  not  understand 
That  I  at  all  should  make  a  little  book 
In  such  a  mode;  nay,  I  had  undertook 
To  make  another;  which,  when  almost  done, 
Before  I  was  aware  I  this  begun. 

And  thus  it  was :  I  writing  of  the  way 
And  race  of  saints,  in  this  our  gospel-day, 

Fell  suddenly  into  an  allegory 

About  their  journey,  and  the  way  to  glory, 

In  more  than  twenty  things  which  I  set  down} 
This  done,  I  twenty  more  had  in  my  crown; 
And  they  again  began  to  multiply, 

Like  sparks  that  from  the  coals  of  fire  do  fly 
Nay,  then,  thought  I,  if  that  you  breed  so  fast 
I’ll  put  you  by  yourselves,  lest  you  at  last 
Should  prove  ad  infinitum ,*  and  eat  out 
The  book  that  I  already  am  abouf. 

Well,  so  I  did  ;  but  yet  I  did  not  think 
To  show  to  all  the  world  my  pen  and  ink 
In  such  a  mode  ;  I  only  thought  to  make 
I  knew  not  what:  nor  did  I  undertake 
Thereby  to  please  my  neighbor:  no,  not  1} 

I  did  it  my  own  self  to  gratify. 

Neither  did  I  but  vacant  seasons  spend 
In  this  my  scribble :  nor  did  I  intend 


*  Without  end. 


14 


THE  AUTHOR’S  APOLOGY. 


But  to  divert  myself  in  doing  this, 

From  worser  thoughts,  which  make  me  do  amiss. 
Thus  I  set  pen  to  paper  with  delight, 

And  quickly  had  my  thoughts  in  black  and  white. 
For  having  now  my  method  by  the  end, 

Still  as  I  pull’d,  it  came ;  and  so  I  penn’d 
It  down  :  until  it  came  at  last  to  be, 

For  length  and  breadth,  the  bigness  which  you  sea 

Well,  when  I  had  thus  put  mine  ends  together, 

I  show’d  them  others,  that  I  might  see  whether 
They  would  condemn  them,  or  them  justify: 

And  some  said,  Let  them  live;  some,  Let  them  die, 
Some  said,  John,  print  it;  others  said,  Not  so; 

Some  said,  It  might  do  good ;  others  said,  No. 

Now  was  I  in  a  strait,  and  did  not  see 
Which  was  the  best  thing  to  be  done  by  me : 

At  last  I  thought,  Since  ye  are  thus  divided, 

I  print  it  will;  and  so  the  case  decided. 

For,  thought  I,  some  I  see  would  have  it  dona 
Though  others  in  that  channel  do  not  run : 

To  prove,  then,  who  advised  for  the  best, 

Thus  I  thought  fit  to  put  it  to  the  test. 

I  further  thought,  if  now  I  did  deny 
Those  that  would  have  it,  thus  to  gratify; 

I  did  not  know,  but  hinder  them  I  might 
Of  that  which  would  to  them  be  great  delight. 

For  those  which  were  not  for  its  coming  forth, 

I  said  to  them,  Offend  you  I  am  loth: 

Yet  since  your  brethren  pleased  with  it  be, 

Forbear  to  judge,  till  you  do  further  see. 

If  that  thou  wilt  not  read,  let  it  alone ; 

Some  love  the  meat,  some  love  to  pick  the  bone. 


THE  AUTHOR’S  APOLOGY. 

Yea,  that.  I  might  them  better  palliate, 

I  did  too  with  them  thus  expostulate: 

May  I  not  write  in  such  a  style  as  this  ? 

In  such  a  method  too,  and  yet  not  miss 
My  end— thy  good  ?  Why  may  it  not  be  done  ? 

Dark  clouds  bring  waters  when  the  bright  bring  none 
Yea,  dark  or  bright,  if  they  their  silver  drops 
Cause  to  descend,  the  earth,  by  yielding  crops, 

Gives  praise  to  both,  and  carpeth  not  at  either, 

But  treasures  up  the  fruit  they  yield  together;  * 

Yea,  so  commixes  both,  that  in  their  fruit 
None  can  distinguish  this  from  that;  they  suit 
Her  well  when  hungry;  but  if  she  be  full, 

She  spews  out  both,  and  makes  their  blessing  null. 

You  see  the  ways  the  fisherman  doth  take 
To  catch  the  fish ;  what  engines  doth  he  make  ! 
Behold  how  he  engageth  all  his  wits; 

Also  his  snares,  lines,  angles,  hooks,  and  nets; 

Yet  fish  theie  be,  that  neither  hook  nor  line, 

Nor  snare,  nor  net,  nor  engine  can  make  thine : 

They  must  be  grop’d  for,  and  be  tickled  too. 

Or  they  will  not  be  catch’d,  whate’er  you  do. 

How  does  the  fowler  seek  to  catch  his  game 
By  divers  means !  all  which  one  cannot  name : 

His  guns,  his  nets,  his  lime-twigs,  light,  and  bell : 

He  creeps,  he  goes,  he  stands;  yea,  who  can  tell 
Of  all  his  postures?  Yet  there’s  none  of  these 
Will  make  him  master  of  what  fowls  he  please. 

Yea,  lie  must  pipe  and  whistle,  to  catch  this; 

Yet  if  he  does  so,  that  bird  he  will  miss. 

If  that  a  pearl  may  in  a  toad’s  head  dwell, 

And  may  be  found  too  in  an  oyster-shell ; 

If  things  that  promise  nothing  do  contain 
What  better  is  than  gold  ;  who  will  disdain, 


16 


THE  AUTHOR’S  APOLOGY. 

That  have  an  inkling*  of  it,  there  to  look, 

That  they  may  find  it  ?  Now  my  little  book, 

(Though  void  of  all  these  paintings  that  may  make 
It  with  this  or  the  other  man  to  take,) 

Is  not  without  those  things  that  do  excell 
What  do  in  brave,  but  empty  notions  dwell. 

“Well,  yet  I  am  not  fully  satisfied 
“  That  this  your  book  will  stand  when  soundly  tried.” 

Why,  what’s  the  matter?  “  It  is  dark.”  What  though? 
“  But  it  is  feigned.”  What  of  that  ?  I  trow 
Some  men  by  feigned  words,  as  dark  as  mine, 

Make  truth  to  spangle,  and  its  rays  to  shine. 

“  But  they  want  solidness.”  Speak,  man,  thy  mind. 
“They  drown  the  weak;  metaphors  make  us  blind.” 

Solidity,  indeed,  becomes  the  pen 
Of  him  that  writeth  things  divine  to  men  : 

But  must  I  needs  want  solidness,  because 
By  metaphors  I  speak  ?  Were  not  God’s  laws, 

His  gospel  laws,  in  olden  time  held  forth 
By  types,  shadows,  and  metaphors?  Yet  loth 
Will  any  sober  man  be  to  find  fault 
With  them,  lest  he  be  found  for  to  assault 
The  highest  wisdom  !  No,  he  rather  stoops, 

And  seeks  to  find  out  by  what  pins  and  loops, 

By  calves  and  sheep,  by  heifers  and  by  rams, 

By  birds  and  herbs,  and  by  the  blood  of  lambs, 

God  speaketh  to  him ;  and  happy  is  he 
That  finds  the  light  and  grace  that  in  them  be. 

Be  not  too  forward  therefore  to  conclude 
That  I  want  solidness — that  I  am  rude : 

All  things  solid  in  show  not  solid  be; 

All  things  in  parable  despise  not  we, 


Hint,  whisper,  intimation. 


THE  AUTHOR’S  APOLOGY. 


17 


Lest  things  most  hurtful  lightly  we  receive, 

And  things  that  good  are  of  our  souls  bereave. 

My  dark  and  cloudy  words  they  do  but  hold 
The  truth,  as  cabinets  inclose  the  gold. 

The  prophets  used  much  by  metaphors 
To  set  forth  truth :  yea,  whoso  considers 
Christ,  his  apostles  too,  shall  plainly  see, 

That  truths  to  this  day  in  such  mantles  be. 

Am  I  afraid  to  say,  that  holy  writ. 

Which  for  its  style  and  phrase  puts  down  all  wit, 
Is  every  where  so  full  of  all  these  things, 

Dark  figures,  allegories  ?  Yet  there  springs 
From  that  same  book,  that  lustre,  and  those  rays 
Of  light  that  turns  our  darkest  nights  to  days. 

Come,  let  my  carper  to  his  life  now  look, 

And  find  there  darker  lines  than  in  my  book 
He  findeth  any;  yea,  and  let  him  know, 

That  in  his  best  things  there  are  worse  lines  too. 

May  we  but  stand  before  impartial  men, 

To  his  poor  one  I  durst  adventure  ten, 

That  they  will  take  my  meaning  in  these  lines 
Far  better  than  his  lies  in  silver  shrines. 

Come,  truth,  although  in  swaddling  clothes,  I  find 
Informs  the  judgment,  rectifies  the  mind; 

Pleases  the  understanding,  makes  the  will 
Submit,  the  memory  too  it  doth  fill 
With  what  doth  our  imagination  please ; 

Likewise  it  tends  our  troubles  to  appease. 

Sound  words,  I  know,  Timothy  is  to  use, 

And  old  wives’  fables  he  is  to  refuse  ; 

But  yet  grave  Paul  him  no  where  doth  forbid 
The  use  of  parables ;  in  which  lay  hid 

2* 


18 


THE  AUTHOR’S  APOLOGY. 


That  gold;  those  pearls,  and  precious  stones  that  were 
Worth  digging  for,  and  that  with  greatest  care. 

Let  me  add  one  word  more.  O  man  of  God 
Art  thou  offended  ?  Dost  thou  wish  I  had 
Put  forth  my  matter  in  another  dress? 

Or,  that  I  had  in  things  been  more  express? 

Three  things  let  me  propound;  then  I  submit 
To  those  that  are  my  betters,  as  is  fit. 

1.  I  find  not  that  I  am  denied  the  use 
Of  this  my  method,  so  I  no  abuse 

Put  on  the  words,  things,  readers,  or  be  rude 
In  handling  figure  or  similitude, 

In  application  ;  but  all  that  1  may 

Seek  the  advance  of  truth  this  or  that  way. 

Denied  did  I  say  ?  Nay,  I  have  leave, 

(Example  too,  and  that  from  them  that  have 
God  better  pleased,  by  their  words  or  ways, 

Than  any  man  that  breatheth  now-a-days,) 

Thus  to  express  my  mind,  thus  to  declare 
Things  unto  thee  that  excellentest  are. 

2.  I  find  that  men  as  high  as  trees  will  write 
Dialogue-wise :  yet  no  man  doth  them  slight 
For  writing  so  :  indeed  if  they  abuse 

Truth,  cursed  be  they,  and  the  craft  they  use 
To  that  intent ;  but  yet  let  truth  be  free 
To  make  her  sallies  upon  thee  and  me, 

Which  way  it  pleases  God:  for  who  knows  how 
Better  than  he  that  taught  us  first  to  plough, 

To  guide  our  minds  and  pens  for  his  design  ? 

And  he  makes  base  things  usher  in  divine. 

3.  I  find  that  holy  writ,  in  many  places, 

Hath  semblance  with  this  method,  where  the  cases 


/ 


19 


THE  AUTHOR’S  APOLOGY, 

Do  call  for  one  thing,  lo  set  forth  another: 

Use  it  I  may  then,  and  yet  nothing  smother 
Truth’s  golden  beams:  nay,  by  this  method  may 
Make  it  cast  forth  its  rays  as  light  as  day. 

And  now,  before  I  do  put  up  my  pen, 

I’ll  show  the  profit  of  my  book :  and  then 
Commit  both  thee  and  it  unto  that  hand 
That  pulls  the  strong  down,  and  makes  weak  ones  stand. 

This  book  it  chalketh  out  before  thine  eyes 
The  man  that  seeks  the  everlasting  prize  : 

It  shows  you  whence  he  comes,  whither  he  goes , 

What  he  leaves  undone  ;  also  what  he  does: 

It  also  shows  you  how  he  runs  and  runs 
Till  he  unto  the  gate  of  glory  comes. 

It  shows,  too,  who  set  out  for  life  amain, 

As  if  the  lasting  crown  they  would  obtain  ; 

Here  also  you  may  see  the  reason  why 
They  lose  their  labor,  and  like  fools  do  die. 

This  book  will  make  a  traveller  of  thee, 

If  by  its  counsel  thou  wilt  ruled  be  ; 

It  will  direct  thee  to  the  Holy  I, and, 

If  thou  wilt  its  directions  understand  : 

Yea,  it  will  make  the  slothful  active  be; 

The  blind  also  delightful  things  to  see. 

Art  thou  for  something  rare  and  profitable  ? 

O-  wouldst  thou  see  a  truth  within  a  fable  ? 

Art  thou  forgetful  ?  Wouldest  thou  remember 
From  New-Year’s-day  to  the  last  of  December! 

Then  read  my  fancies;  they  will  stick  like  burs, 

And  may  be,  to  the  helpless,  comforters. 

Ibis  book  is  writ  in  such  a  diuiect, 

As  may  the  minds  of  listless  men  affect  I 


20 


THE  AUTHOR’S  APOLOGY. 


It  seems  a  novelty,  and  yet  contains 
Nothing  but  sound  and  honest  gospel  strains. 

Wouldst  thou  divert  thyself  from  melancholy  ? 
Wouldst  thou  be  pleasant,  yet  be  far  from  folly  ? 
Wouldst  thou  read  riddles,  and  their  explanation  ? 

Or  else  be  drowned  in  thy  contemplation? 

Dost  thou  love  picking  meat?  Or  wouldst  thou  see 
A  man  i’  the  clouds,  and  hear  him  speak  to  thee? 
Wouldst  thou  be  in  a  dream,  and  yet  not  sleep  ? 

Or  wouldst  thou  in  a  moment  laugh  and  weep  ? 

Wouldst  thou  lose  thyself  and  catch  no  harm, 

And  find  thyself  again  without  a  charm  ? 

Wouldst  read  thyself,  and  read  thou  know’st  not  what. 
And  yet  know  whether  thou  art  blest  or  not, 

By  reading  the  same  lines?  O  then  come  hither, 

And  lay  my  book,  thy  head,  and  heart  together. 

John  Bum  yah. 


THE 


PILGRIM’S  PROGRESS, 

IN  THE  SIMILITUDE  OF  A  DREAM. 


As  I  walked  through  the  wilderness  of  this  world, 
I  lighted  on  a  certain  place  where  was  a 
den,*  and  laid  me  down  in  that  place  to  The  JaiL 
sleep ;  and  as  I  slept,  I  dreamed  a  dream.  I  dreamed, 
and  behold,  I  saw  a  man  clothed  with  rags  standing 
in  a  certain  place,  with  his  face  from  his  own  house, 
a  book  in  his  hand,  and  a  great  burden  upon  his  back, 
Isaiah,  64  :  6 ;  Luke,  14  :  33 ;  Psalm  38  :  4.  I  looked, 
and  saw  him  open  the  book,  and  read  therein ;  and  as 
he  read,  he  wept  and  trembled ;  and  not  being  able 
longer  to  contain,  he  brake  out  with  a  lamentable  cry, 
saying,  “What  shall  I  do?”  Acts,  2:37;  16:30; 
Habakkuk,  1  :  2,  3. 

In  this  plight,  therefore,  he  went  home,  and  re¬ 
strained  himself  as  long  as  he  could,  that  his  wife 
and  children  should  not  perceive  his  distress;  but  he 
could  not  be  silent  long,  because  that  his  trouble  in¬ 
creased.  Wherefore  at  length  he  brake  his  mind  to 
his  wife  and  children ;  and  thus  he  began  to  talk  to 
them:  “O  my  dear  wife,”  said  he,  “and  you  the 
children  of  my  bowels,  I,  your  dear  friend,  am  in  my¬ 
self  undone  by  reason  of  a  burden  that  lieth  hard  upon 


*  Bedford  jail,  in  which  the  author  was  a  prisoner  for  conscience  sake. 


22 


THE  PILGRIM’S  DEPLORABLE  CONDITION. 


This  world. 


me ;  moreover,  I  am  certainly  informed  that  this  our 
city  will  be  burnt  with  fire  from  heaven ; 
in  which  fearful  overthrow,  both  myself, 
with  thee  my  wife,  and  you  my  sweet  babes,  shall 
He  knows  noway  niiserably  come  to  ruin,  except  (the 
of  escape  as  yet.  which  yet  I  see  not)  some  way  of  escape 
can  be  found  whereby  we  may  be  delivered.”  At  this 
his  relations  were  sore  amazed ;  not  for  that  they  be¬ 
lieved  that  what  he  had  said  to  them  was  true,  but  be¬ 
cause  they  thought  that  some  phrenzy  distemper  had 
got  into  his  head ;  therefore,  it  drawing  toward  night, 
and  they  hoping  that  sleep  might  settle  his  brains,  with 
all  haste  they  got  him  to  bed.  But  the  night  was  as 
troublesome  to  him  as  the  day ;  wherefore,  instead  of 
sleeping,  he  spent  it  in  sighs  and  tears.  So  when  the 
morning  was  come,  they  would  know  how  he  did.  He 
told  them  “Worse  and  worse:”  he  also  set  to  talking 
to  them  again ;  but  they  began  to  be  hardened.  They 

Carnal  physic  also  thought  to  drive  away  his  distemper 
for  a  sick  soul.  by  and  surly  carriage  to  him: 

sometimes  they  would  deride,  sometimes  they  would 
chide,  and  sometimes  they  would  quite  neglect  him. 
Wherefore  he  began  to  retire  himself  to  his  chamber 
to  pray  for  and  pity  them,  and  also  to  condole  his  own 
misery ;  he  would  also  walk  solitarily  in  the  fields, 
sometimes  reading,  and  sometimes  praying :  and  thus 
for  some  days  he  spent  his  time. 

Now  I  saw,  upon  a  time,  when  he  was  walking  in 
the  fields,  that  he  was  (as  he  was  wont)  reading  in  his 
book,  and  greatly  distressed  in  his  mind ;  and  as  he 
read,  he  burst  out,  as  he  had  done  before,  crying, 
“  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved?”  Acts,  16  :  30,  31. 

I  saw  also  that  he  looked  this  way,  and  that  way,  as 
if  he  would  run ;  yet  he  stood  still,  because  (as  I  per- 


EVANGELIST  DIRECTS  HIM  ARIGHT.  23 

ceived)  he  could  not  tell  which  way  to  go.  I  looked 
then,  and  saw  a  man  named  Evangelist  coming  to 
him,  aud  he  asked,  “  Wherefore  dost  thou  cry?”  & 

He  answered,  “  Sir,  I  perceive,  by  the  book  in  my 
hand,  that  I  am  condemned  to  die,  and  after  that  to 
come  to  judgment,  Hebrews,  9  :  27;  and  I  find  that  J 
am  not  willing  to  do  the  first,  Job,  10  :  21,  22 ;  nor  able 
to  do  the  second.”  Ezekiel,  22  :  14. 

Then  said  Evangelist,  “Why  not  willing  to  die, 
since  this  life  is  attended  with  so  many  evils?”  The 
man  answered,  “  Because  I  fear  that  this  burden  that 
is  upon  my  back  will  sink  me  lower  than  the  grave, 
and  I  shall  fall  into  Tophet,  Isaiah,  30  :  33.  And,  sir,* 
if  I  be  not  fit  to  go  to  prison,  I  am  not  fit  to  go  to  judg¬ 
ment,  and  from  thence  to  execution ;  and  the  thoughts 
of  these  things  make  me  cry.” 

Then  said  Evangelist,  “  If  this  be  thy  condition, 
why  standest  thou  still  ?”  He  answered,  Conviction  of  the 
“  Because  I  know  not  whither  to  go.”  "ne£essity  of  flee- 
Then  he  gave  him  a  parchment  roll,  and  there  was 
written  within,  “  Fly  from  the  wrath  to  come.”  Mat¬ 
thew,  3  :  7. 

The  man  therefore  read  it,  and,  looking  upon  Evan¬ 
gelist  very  carefully,  said,  “  Whither  must  I  fly  ?” 
Then  said  Evangelist,  (pointing  with  his  finger  over  a 
veiT  wide  field,)  “  Do  you  see  yonder  wicket-gate'?” 
Matthew,  7  :  13,  14.  The  man  said,  “No.”  Then 
said  the  other,  “  Do  you  see  yonder  shin-  Christ  and  tho 
ing  light?”  Psalm  119  :  105;  2  Peter  way  to  him  can- 
1  :  19.  He  .said,  ‘‘I  think  I  do.”  Then 
said  Evangelist,  “  Keep  that  light  in  your  eye,  and  go 
up  diiectlv  thereto,  so  shalt  thou  see  the  gate ;  at  which 
when  thou  knockest,  it  shall  be  told  thee  what  thou’ 
shalt  do.’-  So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  man  began 


24 


OBSTINATE  AND  PLIABLE  PURSUE  HIM. 


to  run.  Now  he  had  not  run  far  from  his  own  door 
when  his  wife  and  children,  perceiving  it,  began  to  cry 
after  him  to  return;  but  the  man  put  his  fingers  in  his 
ears,  and  ran  on,  crying,  “  Life  !  life !  eternal  life !” 
Luke,  14  :  26.  So  he  looked  not  behind  him,  Genesis, 
19  :  17,  but  fled  toward  the  middle  of  the  plain. 

The  neighbors  also  came  out  to  see  him  run,  Jere 

They  that  flee  miah,  20  :  10 ;  and  as  he  ran  some  mock- 

come  are  amazing  ed>  others  threatened,  and  some  cried 
rtock  to  the  world,  after  him  to  return;  and  among  those 

that  did  so,  there  were  two  that  resolved  to  fetch  him 
back  by  force.  The  name  of  the  one  was  Obstinate, 
and  the  name  of  the  other  Pliable.  Now  by  this  time 
the  man  was  got  a  good  distance  from  them ;  but  how¬ 
ever  they  were  resolved  to  pursue  him,  which  they 
did,  and  in  a  little  time  they  overtook  him.  Then  said 
the  man,  “  Neighbors,  wherefore  are  ye  come'?”  They 
said,  “  To  persuade  you  to  go  back  with  us.”  But  he 
said,  “  That  can  by  no  means  be :  you  dwell,”  said  he, 
“  in  the  city  of  Destruction,  the  place  also  where  I  was 
born :  I  see  it  to  be  so ;  and  dying  there,  sooner  or  later 
you  will  sink  lower  than  the  grave,  into  a  place  that 
burns  with  fire  and  brimstone :  be  content,  good  neigh¬ 
bors,  and  go  along  with  me.” 

Obst.  What !  said  Obstinate,  and  leave  our  friends 
and  our  comforts  behind  us ! 

Chr.  Yes,  said  Christian,  (for  that  was  his  name,) 
because  that  all  which  you  forsake  is  not  worthy  to  be 
compared  with  a  little  of  that  I  am  seeking  to  enjoy, 
2  Corinthians,  4:18;  and  if  you  will  go  along  with 
me,  and  hold  it,  you  shall  fare  as  I  myself ;  for  there, 
where  I  go,  is  enough  and  to  spare,  Luke,  15  :  17. 
Come  away,  and  prove  my  words. 

Obst.  What  are  the  things  you  seek,  since  you  leave 
all  the  world  to  find  them  ? 


DIALOGUE  WITH  OBSTINATE  AND  PLIABLE.  25 

Chr.  I  seek  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled, 
and  that  fadeth  not  away,  1  Peter,  1  :  4;  and  it  is  laid 
up  in  heaven,  and  safe  there,  Hebrews,  11  :  16,  to  be 
bestowed,  at  the  time  appointed,  on  them  that  dili¬ 
gently  seek  it.  Read  it  so,  if  you  will,  in  my  book. 

Oest,  Tush,  said  Obstinate,  awray  with  your  book ; 
will  you  go  back  with  us  or  no  ? 

Chr.  No,  not  I,  said  the  other,  because  I  have  laid 
my  hand  to  the  plough,  Luke,  9  :  62. 

Obst.  Come  then,  neighbor  Pliable,  let  us  turn 
again,  and  go  home  without  him  :  there  is  a  company 
of  these  crazy-headed  coxcombs,  that  when  they  take 
a  fancy  by  the  end,  are  wiser  in  their  own  eyes  than 
seven  men  that  can  render  a  reason. 

Pli.  Then  said  Pliable,  Don’t  revile ;  if  what  the 
good  Christian  says  is  true,  the  things  he  looks  after 
are  better  than  ours :  my  heart  inclines  to  go  with  my 
neighbor. 

Obst.  What !  more  fools  still !  Be  ruled  by  me  and 
go  back  ;  who  knows  whither  such  a  brain-sick  fellow 
will  lead  you  ?  Go  back,  go  back,  and  be  wise... 

Chr.  Come  with  me  neighbor  Pliable;  there  are 
such  things  to  be  had  which  I  spoke  of,  . 
and  many  more  glories  beside.  If  you  stinate  puli  for  Pii- 
believe  not  me,  read  here  in  this  book;  able’ssoul- 
and  for  the  truth  of  what  is  expressed  therein,  behold, 
all  is  confirmed  by  the  blood  of  Him  that  made  it, 
Hebrews,  9  :  17  :  21. 

Pli.  Well,  neighbor  Obstinate,  said  Pliable,  I  begin 
to  come  to  a  point;  I  intend  to  go  along  Pliable  consent- 
with  this  good  man,  and  to  cast  in  my  Christian5°  Wlth 
lot  with  him:  but,  my  good  companion,' do  you  know 
the  way  to  this  desired  place? 

Chr.  I  am  directed  by  a  man,  whose  name  is  Evan- 

3 


26 


OBSTINATE  GOES  BACK. 


gelist,  to  speed  me  to  a  little  gate  that  is  before  us, 
where  we  shall  receive  instruction  about  the  way. 

Pu.  Come  then,  good  neighbor,  let  us  be  going. 
Then  they  went  both  together. 

Obst.  And  I  will  go  back  to  my  place,  said  Obsti- 

Obstinate  goes  nate :  I  will  be  no  companion  of  such 
railing  back.  misled  fantastical  fellows. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  when  Obstinate  was 

Talk  between  gone  back,  Christian  and  Pliable  went 
able.  talking  over  the  plain;  and  thus  they 

began  their  discourse. 

Chr.  Come,  neighbor  Pliable,  how  do  you  do  ?  I 
am  glad  you  are  persuaded  to  go  along  with  me. 
Had  even  Obstinate  himself  but  felt  what  I  have  felt 
of  the  powers  and  terrors  of  what  is  yet  unseen,  he 
would  not  thus  lightly  have  given  us  the  back. 

Pli.  Come,  neighbor  Christian,  since  there  are  none 
but  us  two  here,  tell  me  now  farther,  what  the  things 
are,  and  how  to  be  enjoyed,  whither  we  are  going. 

Chr.  I  can  better  conceive  of  them  with  my  mind, 

God’s  things  un- than  speak  of  them  with  my  tongue: 
epcakabie.  but  yet  since  you  are  desirous  to  know, 
I  will  read  of  them  in  my  book. 

Pli.  And  do  you  think  that  the  words  of  your  book 
are  certainly  true  7 

Chr.  Yes,  verily ;  for  it  was  made  by  Him  that  can¬ 
not  lie,  Titus,  1  :  2. 

Pli.  Well  said  ;  what  things  are  they  7 

Chr.  There  is  an  endless  kingdom  to  be  inhabited, 
and  everlasting  life  to  be  given  us,  that  we  may  inhabit 
that  kingdom  forever,  Isaiah,  45  :  17 ;  John,  10 . 27,  29. 

Pli.  Well  said  ;  and  what  else  7 

Chr.  There  are  crowns  of  glory  to  be  given  us ; 
and  garments  that  will  make  us  shine  l»ke  the  sun  in 


DIALOGUE  BETWEEN  CHRISTIAN  AND  PLIABLE.  27 

the  firmament  of  heaven,  2  Timothy,  4:8;  Revela¬ 
tion,  22:  5  ;  Matthew,  13:  43. 

Pli.  This  is  excellent ;  and  what  else  ? 

Chr.  There  shall  be  no  more  crying,  nor  sorrow, 
for  he  that  is  owner  of  the  place  will  wipe  all  tears 
from  our  eyes,  Isaiah,  25  :  8 ;  Revelations,  7 :  16,  17 ; 
21 :  4. 

Pli.  And  what  company  shall  we  have  there  ? 

Chr.  There  we  shall  be  with  seraphims  and  cheru- 
bims,  Isaiah,  6:  2;  1  Thessalonians,  4:  16,  17;  Reve¬ 
lations,  5:  11;  creatures  that  will  dazzle  your  eyes  to 
look  on  them.  There  also  you  shall  meet  with  thou¬ 
sands  and  ten  thousands  that  have  gone  before  us  to 
that  place ;  none  of  them  are  hurtful,  but  loving  and 
holy ;  every  one  walking  in  the  sight  of  God,  and 
standing  in  his  presence  with  acceptance  for  ever.  In 
a  word,  there  we  shall  see  the  elders  with  their  golden 
crowns,  Revelations,  4:4;  there  we  shall  see  the  holy 
virgins  with  their  golden  harps,  Revelations,  14 :  1:5; 
there  we  shall  see  men,  that  by  the  world  were  cut  in 
pieces,  burnt  in  flames,  eaten  of  beasts,  drowned  in  the 
seas,  for  the  love  they  bare  to  the  Lord  of  the  place, 
John,  12:  25;  all  well,  and  clothed  with  immortality 
as  with  a  garment,  2  Corinthians,  5 :  2,  3,  5. 

Pli.  The  hearing  of  this  is  enough  to  ravish  one’s 
heart.  But  are  these  thing  to  be  enjoyed?  How  shall 
we  get  to  be  sharers  thereof  ? 

Chr.  The  Lord,  the  governor  of  the  country,  hath 
recorded  that  in  this  book,  Isaiah,  55  :  1, 2 ;  John  6 : 37. 
8  :  37 ;  Revelations,  22 :  6  ;  22,  17 ;  the  substance  of 
which  is,  If  we  be  truly  willing  to  have  it,  he  will  be¬ 
stow  it  upon  us  freely. 

Pli.  Well,  my  good  companion,  glad  am  I  to  hear 
of  these  things :  come  on,  let  us  mend  our  pace. 


28  THE  SLOUGH  OF  DESPOND. — PLIABLE  GOES  BACK. 

Ciir.  I  cannot  go  so  fast  as  I  would,  by  reason  of 
this  burden  that  is  on  my  back. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  just  as  they  had  ended 
this  talk,  they  drew  nigh  to  a  very  miry  slough  that 
was  in  the  midst  of  the  plain :  and  they  being  heed¬ 
less,  did  both  fall  suddenly  into  the  bog.  The  name 

The  siough  of  of  the  slough  was  Despond.  Here,  there- 
Despoud.  fore,  they  wallowed  for  a  time,  being 

grievously  bedaubed  with  dirt ;  and  Christian,  because 
of  the  burden  that  was  on  his  back,  began  to  sink  in 
the  mire. 

Pli.  Then  said  Pliable,  Ah,  neighbor  Christian, 
where  are  you  now  ? 

Chr.  Truly,  said  Christian,  I  do  not  know. 

Pli.  At  this  Pliable  began  to  be  offended,  and  an¬ 
grily  said  to  his  fellow,  Is  this  the  happiness  you  have 
told  me  all  this  while  of?  If  we  have  such  ill  speed  at 
our  first  setting  out,  what  may  we  expect  between  this 
and  our  journey’s  end  ?  May  I  get  out  again  with  my 

it  is  not  enough  to  ^e>  y°11  shall  possess  the  brave  coun- 
be  pliable.  try  alone  for  me.  And  with  that  he 

gave  a  desperate  struggle  or  two,  and  got  out  of  the 
mire  on  that  side  of  the  slough  which  was  next  to  his 
own  house :  so  away  he  went,  and  Christian  saw  him 
no  more. 

Wherefore  Christian  was  left  to  tumble  in  the 
Christian,  in  trou-  Slough  of  Despond  alone :  but  still  he 
geet’  farther ‘from  endeavored  to  struggle  to  that  side  of 
his  own  house.  the  slough  that  was  farthest  from  his 
own  house,  and  next  to  the  wicket-gate ;  the  which 
he  did,  but  could  not  get  out  because  of  the  burden 
that  was  upon  »his  back :  but  I  beheld  in  my  dream, 
that  a  man  came  to  him,  whose  name  was  Help,  and 
asked  him  “  What  he  did  there  ?” 


CHRISTIAN  LIFTED  OUT  BY  HELP.  29 

Chr.  Sir,  said  Christian,  I  was  bid  to  go  this  way 
by  a  man  called  Evangelist,  who  directed  me  also  to 
yonder  gate,  that  I  might  escape  the  wrath  to  come. 
And  as  I  was  going  thither  I  fell  in  here. 

Help.  But,  why  did  not  you  look  for 
the  steps.  The  Prouiises- 

Chr.  Fear  followed  me  so  hard,  that  I  fled  the  next 
way,  and  fell  in. 

Help.  Then  said  he  give  me  thine  hand:  so  he 
gave  him  his  hand,  and  he  drew  him 
out,  Psalm  40  :  2,  and  he  set  him  upon  Help  lifts  ^  oul* 

sound  ground,  and  bid  him  go  on  his 
way. 

Then  I  stepped  to  him  that  plucked  him  out,,  and 
said,  “  Sir,  wherefore,  since  over  this  place  is  the  way 
from  the  city  of  Destruction  to  yonder  gate,  is  it,  that 
this  plat  is  not  mended,  that  poor  travellers  might  go 
thither  with  more  security?”  And  he  said  unto  me, 
“  This  miry  slough  is  such  a  place  as  cannot  be 
mended  :  it  is  the  descent  whither  the  what  makes  tho 
scum  and  filth  that  attends  conviction  fpolld!1  °f  De 
for  sin  doth  continually  run,  and  therefore  it  is  called 
the  Slough  of  Despond;  for  still  as  the  sinner  is 
awakened  about  his  lost  condition,  there  arise  in  his 
soul  many  fears  and  doubts,  and  discouraging  appre¬ 
hensions,  which  all  of  them  get  together,  and  settle  in 
this  place:  and  this  is  the  reason  of  the  badness  of 
this  ground.” 

“  It  is  not  the  pleasure  of  the  King  that  this  place 
should  remain  so  bad,  Isaiah,  35  :  3,  4.  His  laborers 
also  have,  by  the  direction  of  his  Majesty’s  surveyors, 
been  for  above  these  sixteen  hundred  years  employed 
about  this  patch  of  ground,  if  perhaps  it  might  have 
been  mended :  yea,  and  to  my  knowledge,”  said  he, 

3* 


30  THE  STEPS  OF  PROMISES. — PLIABLE  GETS  HOME. 

“  here  have  been  swallowed  up  at  least  twenty  thou¬ 
sand  cart-loads,  yea,  millions  of  wholesome  instruc¬ 
tions,  that  have  at  all  seasons  been  brought  from  all 
places  of  the  king’s  dominions,  (and  they  that  can  tell, 
say,  they  are  the  best  materials  to  make  good  ground 
of  the  place,)  if  so  be  it  might  have  been  mended  ;  but 
is  the  Slough  of  Despond  still,  and  so  will  be  when 
they  have  done  what  they  can. 

“  True,  there  are,  by  the  direction  of  the  Lawgiver, 

The  promises  certain  good  and  substantial  steps, 

uf  forgiveness  and  placed  even  through  the  very  midst  of 
acceptance  to  life  r  .  ,  . 

by  faith  in  Cnrint.  this  slough}  but  at  such  time  as  this 

place  doth  much  spew  out  its  filth,  as  it  doth  against 
change  of  weather,  these  steps  are  hardly  seen  ;  or  if 
they  be,  men,  through  the  dizziness  of  their  heads, 
step  beside,  and  then  they  are  bemired  to  purpose, 
notwithstanding  the  steps  be  there  ;  but  the  ground  is 
good  when  they  are  once  got  in  at  the  gate,”  1  Sa¬ 
muel,  12 :  23. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  by  this  time  Pliable 
piiabio  got  home,  was  got  home  to  his  house.  So  his 
hislneSigi,boresd  by  neighbors  came  to  visit  him  ;  and  some 
of  them  called  him  wise  man  for  coming  back,  and 
some  called  him  fool  for  hazarding  himself  with 
Christian :  others  again  did  mock  at  his  cowardliness  j 
saying,  “  Surely,  since  you  began  to  venture,  I  would 
not  have  been  so  base  to  have  given  out  for  a  few 
difficulties:”  so  Pliable  sat  sneaking  among  them. 
But  at  last  he  got  more  confidence,  and  then  they  all 
turned  their  tales,  and  began  to  deride  poor  Christian 
behind  his  back.  And  thus  much  concerning  Pliable. 

Now  as  Christian  was  walking  solitarily  by  himself, 
he  espied  one  afar  off,  come  crossing  over  the  field  to 

Mr.  Worldly  meet  him ;  and  their  hap  was  to  meet 
wi tiTcbr isiian.elS  just  as  they  were  crossing  the  way  of 


CHRISTIAN  MEETS  MR.  WORLDLY  WISEMAN.  31 

each  other.  The  gentleman’s  name  that  met  him 
was  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman:  he  dwelt  in  the  town  of 
Carnal  Policy,  a  very  great  town,  and  also  hard-by 
from  whence  Christian  came.  This  man  then,  meeting 
with  Christian,  and  having  some  inkling*  of  him,  (for 
Christian’s  setting  forth  from  the  city  of  Destruction 
was  much  noised  abroad,  not  only  in  the  town  where 
he  dwelt,  but  also  it  began  to  be  the  town  talk  in  some 
other  places,) — Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman,  therefore, 
having  some  guess  of  him,  by  beholding  his  laborious 
going,  by  observing  his  sighs  and  groans,  and  the  like, 
began  thus  to  enter  into  some  talk  with  Christian. 

World.  How  now,  good  fellow,  whi-  Talk  betwixt  Mr. 

®  Worldly  Wiscni&ii 

ther  away  after  this  burdened  manner  ?  and  Christian. 

Chr.  A  burdened  manner  indeed,  as  ever  I  think 
poor  creature  had !  And  whereas  you  ask  me,  Whi¬ 
ther  away  ?  I  tell  you,  sir,  I  am  going  to  yonder 
wicket-gate  before  me ;  for  there,  as  I  am  informed,  I 
shall  be  put  into  a  way  to  be  rid  of  my  heavy  burden. 

World.  Hast  thou  a  wife  and  children? 

Chr.  Yes  ;  but  I  am  so  laden  with  this  burden  that 
1  cannot  take  that  pleasure  in  them  as  formerly  :  me- 
thinks  I  am  as  if  I  had  none,  1  Corinthians,  7 :  29. 

World.  Wilt  thou  hearken  to  me  if  I  give  thee 
counsel  ? 

Chr.  If  it  be  good,  I  will ;  for  I  stand  in  need  of 
good  counsel  ? 

World.  I  Would  advise  thee  then,  that  thou 
with  all  speed  get  thyself  rid  of  thy  Worldly  Wisc- 

,  ,  -  man’s  counsel  to 

burden ;  for  thou  wilt  never  be  settled  Christian, 
in  thy  mind  till  then :  nor  canst  thou  enjoy  the  bene¬ 
fits  of  the  blessings  which  God  hath  bestowed  upon 
thee,  till  then. 

Chr.  That  is  that  which  I  seek  for,  even  to  be  rid 

*  Slight  knowledge. 


32 


THEIR  CONVERSATION. 


of  this  heavy  burden :  but  get  it  off  myself  I  cannot; 
nor  is  there  any  man  in  our  country  that  can  take  it 
off  my  shoulders;  therefore  am  I  going  this  way,  as  I 
told  you,  that  I  may  be  rid  of  my  burden  ? 

World.  Who  bid  thee  go  this  way  to  be  rid  of  thy 
burden  ? 

Chr.  A  man  that  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  very  great 
and  honorable  person :  his  name,  as  I  remember,  is 
Evangelist. 

World.  I  beshrew*  him  for  his  counsel !  there  is 
Mr  .Worldly  Wise-  not  a  more  dangerous  and  troublesome 

infin  condemneth  jn  the  world  than  is  that  into 

Evangelist  s  coun- 

sei.  which  he  hath  directed  thee  ;  and  that 

thou  shalt  find,  if  thou  wilt  be  ruled  by  his  counsel. 
Thou  hast  met  with  something,  as  I  perceive,  already; 
for  I  see  the  dirt  of  the  Slough  of  Despond  is  upon 
thee;  but  that  slough  is  the  beginning  of  the  sorrows 
that  do  attend  those  that  go  in  that  way.  Hear  me  ; 
I  am  older  than  thou :  thou  art  like  to  meet  with,  in 
the  way  which  thou  goest,  wearisomeness,  painfulness, 
hunger,  perils,  nakedness,  sword,  lions,  dragons,  dark¬ 
ness,  and,  in  a  word,  death,  and  what  not.  These 
things  are  certainly  true,  having  been  confirmed  by 
many  testimonies.  And  why  should  a  man  so  care¬ 
lessly  castaway  himself,  by  giving  heed  to  a  stranger? 

Chr.  Why,  sir,  this  burden  upon  my  back  is  more 
terrible  to  me  than  all  these  things  which  you  have 
The  frame  of  the  mentioned:  nay,  methinks  I  care  not 
cStian.a  y°Un?  what  I  meet  with  in  the  way,  if  so  be  I 
can  also  meet  with  deliverance  from  my  burden. 

World.  How  earnest  thou  by  thy  burden  at  first? 

Chr.  By  reading  this  book  in  my  hand. 

World.  I  thought  so ;  and  it  has  happened  unto  thee 


*  Wish  a  curse  to. 


CONVERSATION  WITH  MR.  WORLDLY  WISEMAN.  33 

as  to  other  weak  men,  who,  meddling  He  does  not  like 
with  things  too  high  for  them,  do  sud- 
denly  fall  into  thy  distractions ;  which  the  Bible- 
distractions  do  not  only  unman  men,  as  thine  I  per¬ 
ceive  have  done  thee,  but  they  run  them  upon  des¬ 
perate  ventures,  to  obtain  they  know  not  what. 

Chr.  I  know  what  I  would  obtain ;  it  is  ease  from 
my  heavy  burden. 

World.  But  why  wilt  thou  seek  for  ease  this  way, 
seeing  so  many  dangers  attend  it?  especially  since 
(hadst  thou  but  patience  to  hear  me)  I  could  direct 
thee  to  the  obtaining  of  what  thou  desirest,  without 
the  dangers  that  thou  in  this  way  wilt  run  thyself  into. 
Yea,  and  the  remedy  is  at  hand.  Besides,  I  will  add, 
that  instead  of  those  dangers,  thou  shalt  meet  with 
much  safety,  friendship,  and  content. 

Chr.  Pray,  sir,  open  this  secret  to  me. 

World.  Why,  in  yonder  village  (the  village  is 
named  Morality)  there  dwells  a  gentleman  whose 
name  is  Legality,  a  very  judicious  man,  and  a  man  of 
a  very  good  name,  that  has  skill  to  help  men  off  with 
such  burdens  as  thine  is  from  their  He  prefers  mo- 
shoulders;  yea,  to  my  knowledge,  he  stS gate*!0™  the 
hath  done  a  great  deal  of  good  this  way ;  ay,  and  be¬ 
sides,  he  hath  skill  to  cure  those  that  are  somewhat 
crazed  in  their  wits  with  their  burdens.  To  him,  as  I 
said,  thou  mayst  go,  and  be  helped  presently.  His 
tususe  is  not  quite  a  mile  from  this  place ;  and  if  he 
should  not  be  at  home  himself,  he  hath  a  pretty  young 
man  to  his  son,  whose  name  is  Civility,  that  can  do  it 
(to  speak  on)  as  well  as  the  old  gentleman  himself: 
♦here,  I  say,  thou  mayst  be  eased  of  thy  burden ;  and 
*f  thou  art  not  minded  to  go  back  to  thy  former  habita¬ 
tion,  (as  indeed  I  would  not  wish  thee,)  thou  mayst 


34 


CHRISTIAN  AFRAID  OF  MOUNT  SINAI. 

send  for  thy  wife  and  children  to  thee  to  this  village, 
where  there  are  houses  now  standing  empty,  one°of 
which  thou  mayst  have  at  a  reasonable  rate:  provision 
is  there  also  cheap  and  good;  and  that  which  will 
make  thy  life  the  more  happy  is,  to  be  sure  there  thou 
shalt  live  by  honest  neighbors,  in  credit  and  good 
fashion. 

Now  was  Christian  somewhat  at  a  stand;  but  pre- 

ciiristian  snared  sently  he  concluded,  If  this  be  true  which 
Wi «•' woS  this  gentleman  hath  said,  my  wisest 
course  is  to  take  his  advice :  and  with 
that  he  thus  farther  spake. 

Chr.  Sir,  which  is  my  way  to  this  honest  man’s 
house  ? 

Mount  Sinai.  World.  Do  you  see  yonder  high  hill? 

Chr.  Yes,  very  well. 

World.  By  that  hill  you  must  go,  and  the  first 
house  you  come  at  is  his. 

So  Christian  turned  out  of  his  way  to  go  to  Mr 

t.,aCthMount  tnal  ^OUSe  *>r  help  :  but,  behold,' 

would  fall  on  his  when  he  was  got  now  hard  by  the  hill 

it  seemed  so  high,  and  also  that  side  of 
it  that  was  next  the  way-side  did  hang  so  much  over, 
that  Christian  was  afraid  to  venture  further,  lest  the 
hill  should  fall  on  his  head  ;  wherelbre  there  he  stood 
still,  and  wotted  not  what  to  do.  Also  his  burden  now 
seemed  heavier  to  him  than  while  he  was  in  his  way. 
There  came  also  flashes  of  fire,  Exodi  s,  19  :  16  :  18, 
out  of  the  hill,  that  made  Christian  afraid  that  he 
should  be  burnt,  here  therefore  he  did  sweat,  and 
quake  for  fear,  Hebrews,  12  :  21.  And  now  he  began 
to  be  sorry  that  he  had  taken  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman’s 
counsel;  and  with  that  he  saw  Evangelist  coming  to 
meet  him,  at  the  sight  also  of  whom  he  began  to  blush 


evangelist  meets  him  under  mount  sinai.  35 

foi  shame.  So  Evangelist  drew  nearer  Evangciutfindeth 
and  nearer;  and  coming  up  to  him,  he 
looked  upon  him  with  a  severe  and  dreadful  counte- 
nance,  and  thus  began  to  reason  with  Christian. 

Evan.  What  dost  thou  here,  Christian?  said  he:  at 
which  words  Christian  knew  not  what  to  answer ; 
wherefore  at  present  he  stood  speechless  before  him. 
Then  said  Evangelist  farther,  Art  not  Eyan  e,.gt 
thou  the  man  that  I  found  crying  with-  sons  "afresh  with 
out  the  walls  of  the  city  of  Destruction  ?  Christian* 

Chr.  Yes,  dear  sir,  I  am  the  man. 

Evan.  Bid  not  I  direct  thee  the  way  to  the  little 
wicket-gate  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  dear  sir,  said  Christian. 

Ejvan.  How  is  it  then  that  thou  art  so  quickly 
mrned  aside  ?  For  thou  art  now  out  of  the  way. 

Chr.  I  met  with  a  gentleman  so  soon  as  I  had  got 
over  the  Slough  of  Despond,  who  persuaded  me  that  I 
might,  in  the  village  before  me,  find  a  man  that  could 
take  off  my  burden. 

Evan.  What  was  he  ? 

Chr.  He  looked  like  a  gentleman,  and  talked  much 
'o  me,  and  got  me  at  last  to  yield:  so  I  came  hither* 
but  when  I  beheld  this  hill,  and  how  it  hangs  over  the 

way,  I  suddenly  made  a  stand ;  lest  it  should  fall  on 
my  head. 

Evan.  Y  hat  said  that  gentleman  to  you? 

Chr  Why,  he  asked  me  whither  I  was  going ;  and 
I  told  him. 

Evan.  And  what  said  he  then  ? 

Chr.  He  asked  me  if  I  had  a  family:  and  I  told 
him.  But,  said  I,  I  am  so  laden  with  the  burden  that 

is  on  my  back  that  I  cannot  take  pleasure  in  them  as 
formerly. 


38  15VANGELIST  CONVINCES  HIM  OF  HIS  ERROR. 


Evan.  And  what  said  he  then? 

Chr.  He  bid  me  with  speed  get  rid  of  my  burden ; 
and  I  told  him  it  was  ease  that  I  sought :  And  said  I, 
I  am  therefore  going  to  yonder  gate,  to  receive  further 
direction  how  I  may  get  to  the  place  of  deliverance. 
So  he  said  that  he  would  show  me  a  better  way,  and 
short,  not  so  attended  with  difficulties  as  the  way,  sir, 
that  you  set  me  in;  which  way,  said  he,  will  direct  you 
to  a  gentleman’s  house  that  hath  skill  to  take  off  these 
burdens :  so  I  believed  him,  and  turned  out  of  that 
way  into  this,  if  haply  I  might  be  soon  eased  of  my 
burden.  But  when  I  came  to  this  place,  and  beheld 
things  as  they  are,  I  stopped,  for  tear  (as  I  said)  of 
danger :  but  I  now  know  not  what  to  do. 

Evan.  Then  said  Evangelist,  Stand  still  a  little,  that 

Evangelist  con-  j  may  show  thee  the  words  of  God.  So 
vuices  him  of  hu  st00c[  trembling.  Then  said  Evange¬ 
list,  “  See  that  ye  refuse  not  Him  that  speaketh :  for  if 
they  escaped  not  who  refused  him  that  spake  on  earth, 
much  more  shall  not  we  escape,  if  we  turn  away  from 
Him  that  speaketh  from  heaven.”  Hebrews,  12  :  25. 
He  said,  moreover,  “Now  the  just  shall  live  oy  faith  ; 
but  if  any  man  draw  back,  my  soul  shall  have  no 
pleasure  in  him,”  Hebrews,  10  :  38.  lie  also  did  thus 
apply  them ;  Thou  art  the  man  that  art  running  into 
misery;  thou  hast  begun  to  reject  the  counsel  ol  the 
Most  High,  and  to  draw  back  thy  foot  from  the  way  of 
peace,  even  almost  to  the  hazarding  of  thy  perdition. 

Then  Christian  fell  down  at  his  feet  as  dead,  crying, 
Wo  is  me,  for  I  am  undone  !  At  the  sight  of  which 
Evangelist  caught  him  by  the  right  hand,  saying,  “  All 
manner  of  sin  and  blasphemies  shall  be  forgiven  unto 
men,”  Matthew,  12  :  31.  “  Be  not  faithless,  but  believ¬ 
ing,”  John,  20  :  27.  Then  did  Christian  again  a  little 


EVANGELIST  CONVINCES  HIM  OF  HIS  ERROR.  37 

revive,  and  stood  up  trembling,  as  at  first,  before 
Evangelist. 

Then  Evangelist  proceeded,  saying,  Give  more 
earnest  heed  to  the  things  that  1  shall  tell  thee  of.  I 
will  now  show  thee  who  it  was  that  deluded  thee,  and 
who  it  was  also  to  whom  he  sent  thee.  That  man  that 
met  thee  is  one  Worldly  Wiseman ;  and  ,T  w  ,  „ 
rightly  is  he  so  called ;  partly  because  Wiseman  describ- 
he  savoreth  only  of  the  doctrine  of  this  ed  Lvanschst- 
world,  1  John,  4:5;  (therefore  he  always  goes  to  the 
town  of  Morality  to  church;)  and  partly  because  he 
loveth  that  doctrine  best,  for  it  saveth  him  from  the 
cross,  Galatians,  6  :  12,  and  because  he  is  of  this  carnal 
temper,  therefore  he  seeketh  to  pervert  my  ways, 
though  right.  Now  there  are  three  things  in  this  man’s 
counsel  that  thou  must  utterly  abhor. 

1.  His  turning  thee  out  of  the  way. 

2.  His  laboring  to  render  the  cross  odious  to  thee. 

3.  And  his  setting  thy  feet  in  that  way  that  leadeth 
unto  the  administration  of  death. 

First,  Thou  must  abhor  his  turning  thee  out  of  the 
way ;  yea,  and  thine  own  consenting  thereto ;  because 
this  is  to  reject  the  counsel  of  God  for  the  sake  of  the 
counsel  of  a  Worldly  Wiseman.  The  Lord  says, 

“  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate,”  Luke,  13  :  24, 
the  gate  to  which  I  send  thee ;  “  for  strait  is  the  gate 
that  leadeth  unto  life,  and  few  there  be  that  find  it.” 
Matthew,  7:13:  14.  From  this  little  wicket-gate,  and 
from  the  way  thereto,  hath  this  wicked  man  turned 
thee,  to  the  bringing  of  thee  almost  to  destruction : 
hate,  therefore,  his  turning  thee  out  of  the  way,  and 
abhor  thyself  for  hearkening  to  him. 

Secondly,  Thou  must  abhor  his  laboring  to  render 
the  cross  odious  unto  thee ;  for  thou  art  to  prefer  it  be- 

4 


38  EVANGELIST  CONVINCES  HIM  OF  HIS  ERROR* 

fore  the  treasures  of  Egypt,  Hebrews,  1 1  :  25,  26.  Be¬ 
sides,  the  King  of  glory  hath  told  thee,  that  he  that  will 
save  his  life  shall  lose  it.  And  he  that  comes  after 
him,  and  hates  not  his  father,  and  mother,  and  wife, 
and  children,  and  brethren,  and  sisters,  yea,  and  his 
own  life  also,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple,  Mark,  8  :  38 ; 
John,  12  :  25 ;  Matthew,  10  :  39 ;  Luke,  14  :  26.  I  say, 
therefore,  for  man  to  labor  to  persuade  thee  that  that 
shall  be  thy  death,  without  which,  the  truth  hath  said, 
thou  canst  not  have  eternal  life :  this  doctrine  thou 
must  abhor. 

Thirdly,  Thou  must  hate  his  setting  of  thy  feet  in 
the  way  that  leadeth  to  the  ministration  of  death.  And 
for  this  thou  must  consider  to  whom  he  sent  thee,  and 
also  how  unable  that  person  was  to  deliver  thee  from 
thy  burden. 

He  to  whom  thou  was  sent  for  ease,  being  by  name 
Legality,  is  the  son  of  the  bond-woman  which  now  is, 
and  is  in  bondage  with  her  children,  Galatians,  4:21: 
27,  and  is,  in  a  mystery,  this  mount  Sinai,  which  thou 
hast  feared  will  fall  on  thy  head.  Now  if  she  with  her 
children  are  in  bondage,  how  canst  thou  expect  by 
them  to  be  made  free  ?  This  Legality,  therefore,  is  not 
able  to  set  thee  free  from  thy  burden.  No  man  was  as 
yet  ever  rid  of  his  burden  by  him  ;  no,  nor  ever  is  like 
to  be :  ye  cannot  be  justified  by  the  works  of  the  law ; 
for  by  the  deeds  of  the  law  no  man  living  can  be  rid 
of  his  burden.  Therefore  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman  is  an 
alien,  and  Mr.  Legality  is  a  cheat;  and  for  his  son 
Civility,  notwithstanding  his  simpering  looks,  he  is  but 
a  hypocrite,  and  cannot  help  thee.  Believe  me,  there 
is  nothing  in  all  this  noise  that  thou  hast  heard  of 
these  sottish  men,  but  a  design  to  beguile  thee  of  thy 
salvation,  by  turning  thee  from  the  way  in  which  l 


EVANGELIST  CONVINCES  HIM  OF  HIS  ERROR.  39 

had  set  thee.  After  this,  Evangelist  called  aloud  to  the 
heavens  for  confirmation  of  what  he  had  said;  and 
with  that  there  came  words  and  fire  out  of  the  moun¬ 
tain  under  which  poor  Christian  stood,  which  made 
the  hair  of  his  flesh  stand  up.  The  words  were  thus 
pronounced,  “  As  many  as  are  of  the  works  of  the  law 
are  under  the  curse ;  for  it  is  written,  Cursed  is  every 
one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  which  are  written 
in  the  book  of  the  law  to  do  them.”  Galatians,  3  :  10. 

Now  Christian  looked  for  nothing  but  death,  and 
began  to  cry  out  lamentably;  even  cursing  the  time  in 
which  he  met  with  Mr.  Worldly  Wiseman ;  still  calling 
himself  a  thousand  fools  for  hearking  to  his  counsel. 
He  also  was  greatly  ashamed  to  think  that  this  gentle¬ 
man’s  arguments,  flowing  only  from  the  flesh,  should 
have  the  prevalency  with  him  so  far  as  to  cause  him 
to  forsake  the  right  way.  This  done,  he  applied  him¬ 
self  again  to  Evangelist  in  words  and  sense  as  follow's. 

Chr.  Sir,  what  think  you?  Is  there  any  hope? 
May  I  now  go  back,  and  go  up  to  the  wicket-gate  ? 
Shall  I  not  be  abandoned  for  this,  and  sent  back  from 
thence  ashamed?  I  am  sorry  I  have  chrM,„ inqllirM 
hearkened  to  this  man’s  counsel ;  but  if  he  may  yet  bo 
may  my  sin  be  forgiven  ?  ,  happy" 

Evan.  Then  said  Evangelist  to  him,  Thy  sin  is  very 
great,  for  by  it  thou  hast  committed  two  evils ;  thou 
hast  forsaken  the  way  that  is  good,  to  tread  in  forbid¬ 
den  paths.  Yet  will  the  man  at  the  gate  Evangelist  com- 
receive  thee,  for  he  has  good  will  for  forts  hijn-  - 

V 

men ;  only,  said  he,  take  heed  that  thou  turn  not  aside 
again,  lest  fhou  “  perish  from  the  way,  when  his  wrath 
is  kindied  but  a  little,”  Psalm  2  :  12.  Then  did  Chris¬ 
tian  address  himself  to  go  back ;  and  Evangelist,  after 
he  had  kissed  him,  gave  him  one  smile,  and  bid  him 


I 


40  CHRISTIAN  ENTERS  IN  AT  THE  GATE. 

/ 

God  speed ;  so  he  went  on  with  haste,  neither  spake 
he  to  any  man  by  the  way ;  nor  if  any  asked  him, 
would  he  vouchsafe  them  an  answer.  He  went  like 
one  that  was  all  the  while  treading  on  forbidden  ground, 
and  could  by  no  means  think  himself  safe,  till  again  he 
was  got  into  the  way  which  he  had  left  to  follow  Mr. 
Wordly  Vv  iseman’s  counsel.  So,  in  process  of  time, 
Christian  got  up  to  the  gate.  Now,  over  the  gate  there 
was  written,  “  Knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto 
you,55  Matthew,  7  :  7. 

He  knocked,  therefore,  more  than  once  or  twice, 
saying, 


“  May  1  now  enter  here  ?  Will  he  within 
“  Open  to  sorry  me,  though  I  have  been 
“  An  undeserving  rebel  1  Then  shall  l 
“  Not  fail  to  sing  his  lasting  praise  on  high.” 


At  last  there  came  a  grave  person  to  the  gate,  named 
Goodwill,  who  asked  who  was  there,  and  whence  he 
came,  and  what  he  would  have. 

Chr.  Here  is  a  poor  burdened  sinner.  I  come  from 


the  city  of  Destruction,  but  am  going  to  Mount  Zion, 
that  I  may  be  delivered  from  the  wrath  to  come:  I 
would  therefore,  sir,  since  I  am  informed  that  by  this 
gate  is  the  way  thither,  know  if  you  are  willing  to 
let  me  in. 


Good.  I  am  willing  with  all  my  heart,  said  he ;  and 
The  gate  will  be  with  that  he  opened  the  gate. 

opened  to  broken-  ^  >  . 

hearted  sinners.  when  Christian  was  stepping  in, 

the  other  gave  him  a  pull.  Then  said  Christian,  What 

means  that?  The  other  told  him,  A  little  distance 

from  this  gate  there  is  erected  a  strong  castle,  of  which 

Beelzebub  is  the  captain ;  from  thence  both  he  and  they 

Satan  envms  those  that  are  with  him  shoot  arrows  at  those 
that  enter  the  strait  # 

gate.  that  come  up  to  this  gate,  if  haply  they 


TALK  WITH  GOODWILL. 


may  die  before  they  can  enter  in.  Then  said  Chris¬ 
tian,  I  rejoice  and  tremble.  So  when  he  Christian  entered 
was  got  in,  the  man  of  the  gate  asked  S“d5£.Wifg.joy 
him  who  directed  him  thither. 


Chr.  Evangelist  bid  me  come  hither  and  knock,  as 
I  did  :  and  he  said,  that  you,  sir,  would  Talk  between 
tell  me  what  I  must  do.  Sr°it!!.  aud 

Good.  An  open  door  is  set  before  thee,  and  no  man 
can  shut  it. 

Chr.  Now  I  begin  to  reap  the  benefit  of  my  hazards. 

Good.  But  how  is  it  that  you  came  alone  ? 

Chr.  Because  none  of  my  neighbors  saw  their  dan¬ 
ger,  as  I  saw  mine. 


Good.  Did  any  of  them  know  of  your  coming? 

Chr.  Yes,  my  wife  and  children  saw  me  at  fhe  first, 
and  called  after  me  to  turn  again :  also,  some  of  my 
neighbors  stood  crying  and  calling  after  me  to  return  5 

but  I  put  my  fingers  in  my  ears,  and  so  came  on  my 
way. 

Good.  But  did  none  of  them  follow  you,  to  persuade 
you  to  go  back  ? 

Chr.  \  es,  both  Obstinate  and  Pliable :  but  when 
they  saw  that  they  could  not  prevail,  Obstinate  went 
railing  back,  but  Pliable  came  with  me  a  little  way. 

Good.  But  why  did  he  not  come  through? 

Chr.  W  e  indeed  came  both  together  until  we  came 
to  the  Slough  of  Despond,  into  the  which  we  also  sud¬ 
denly  fell.  And  then  was  my  neighbor  Pliable  dis¬ 
couraged,  and  would  not  venture  farther.  Wherefore, 
getting  out  again  on  the  side  next  to  his 
own  house,  he  told  me  I  should  possess 
the  brave  country  alone  for  him :  so  he 
went  his  way,  and  I  came  mine ;  he 
after  Obstinate,  and  I  to  this  gate. 

4* 


A  man  may  have 
company  when  he 
sets  out  for  hea¬ 
ven,  and  yet  go 
thither  oJone. 


I 


42  TALK  WITH  GOODWILL. 

Good.  Then  said  Goodwill,  Alas,  poor  man  !  is  the 
celestial  glory  of  so  little  esteem  with  him,  that  he 
counteth  it  not  worth  running  the  hazard  of  a  few 
difficulties  to  obtain  it  ? 

Chr.  Truly,  said  Christian,  I  have  said  the  truth  of 

.  #.  . I  Pliable  :  and  if  I  should  also  say  the 

Christian  accuseth  ’  . 

himself  before  the  truth  of  myself,  it  will  appear  there  is 
man  at  the  gate.  nQ  betterment  betwixt  him  and  myself. 

5Tis  true,  he  went  back  to  his  own  house,  but  I  also 
turned  aside  to  go  into  the  way  of  death,  being  per¬ 
suaded  thereto  by  the  carnal  argument  of  one  Mr. 
Worldly  Wiseman. 

Good.  Oh  !  did  he  light  upon  you  ?  What !  he  would 
have  had  you  seek  for  ease  at  the  hands  of  Mr.  Le¬ 
gality  !  They  are  both  of  them  a  very  cheat.  But  did 
you  take  his  counsel  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  as  far  as  I  durst.  I  went  to  find  out  Mr. 
Legality,  until  I  thought  that  the  mountain  that  stands 
by  his  house  would  have  fallen  upon  my  head  ;  where¬ 
fore  there  I  was  forced  to  stop. 

Good.  That  mountain  has  been  the  death  of  many, 
and  will  be  the  death  of  many  more ;  it  is  well  you 
escaped  being  by  it  dashed  in  pieces. 

Chr.  Why  truly  I  do  not  know  what  had  become  of 
me  there,  had  not  Evangelist  happily  met  me  again 
as  I  was  musing  in  the  midst  of  my  dumps ;  but  it  was 
God’s  mercy  that  he  came  to  me  again,  for  else  I  had 
never  come  hither.  But  now  I  am  come,  such  a  one 
as  I  am,  more  fit  indeed  for  death  by  that  mountain, 
than  thus  to  stand  talking  with  my  Lord.  But,  oh ! 
what  a  favor  is  this  to  me,  that  yet  I  am  admitted 
entrance  here  ! 

Good.  We  make  no  objections  against  any,  not¬ 
withstanding  all  that  they  have  done  before  they  come 


CHRISTIAN  REACHES  THE  INTERPRETER’S  HOUSE.  43 

hither :  they  in  no  wise  are  cast  out,  Christian  iScom- 
John,  6:  37.  And  therefore,  good  fc^ed  again,  and 
Christian,  come  a  little  way  with  me,  his  way. 
and  I  will  teach  thee  about  the  way  thou  must  go. 
Look  before  thee ;  dost  thou  see  this  narrow  way '? 
That  is  the  way  thou  must  go.  ft  was  cast  up  by  the 
patriarchs,  prophets,  Christ  and  his  apostles,  and  it  is 
as  straight  as  a  rule  can  make  it ;  this  is  the  way  thou 
must  go. 

Chr.  But,  said  Christian,  are  there  no  turnings  nor 

windings,  by  which  a  stranger  may  lose  Christian  afraid  of 
his  way.  losing  his  way 

Good.  Yes,  there  are  many  ways  abut  down  upon 
this  :  and  they  are  crooked  and  wide  :  but  thus  thou 
mayst  distinguish  the  right  from  the  wrong,  the 
right  only  being  straight  and  narrow,  Matthew,  7  :  14. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  asked  him 
further,  if  he  could  not  help  him  off  Ci,ri«k„  weary 
with  his  burden  that  was  upon  his  of  his  burden, 
back.  For  as  yet  he  had  not  got  rid  thereof,  nor 
could  he  by  any  means  get  it  off  without  help. 

He  told  him,  “  As  to  thy  burden,  be  There  is  no  de¬ 
content  to  bear  it  until  thou  comest  to  1.iV(;rance/r,om  t!ie 

.  -  ,  ..  ...  guilt  and  burden 

the  place  ot  deliverance ;  for  there  it  of  sin,  but  by  the 
will  fall  from  thy  back  of  itself.”  Chnst.and  bl°°d  °f 

Then  Christian  began  to  gird  up  his  loins,  and  to 
address  himself  to  his  journey.  So  the  other  told 
him,  that  by  that  he  was  gone  some  distance  from  the 
gate,  he  would  come  at  the  house  of  the  Interpreter, 
at  whose  door  he  should  knock,  and  he  would  show 
him  excellent  things.  Then  Christian  took  his  leave 
of  his  friend,  and  he  again  bid  him  God-speed. 

Then  he  went  on  till  he  came  at  the  house  of  the 
Interpreter,  where  he  knocked  over  and  over.  At 


44 


the  interpreter’s  house. 


Christian  conies  last  one  came  to  the  door,  and  asked 

to  the  house  of  the  .  ... 

Interpreter.  WilO  U  as  theie. 

Chr.  Sir,  here  is  a  traveller,  who  was  bid  by  an  ac¬ 
quaintance  of  the  good  man  of  this  house  to  call  here 
lor  my  profit ;  I  would  therefore  speak  with  the 
master  of  the  house. 

So  he  called  for  the  master  of  the  house,  who,  after 
a  little  time,  came  to  Christian,  and  asked  him  what  he 
would  have. 

Chr.  Sir,  said  Christian,  I  am  a  man  that  am  come 
from  the  city  of  Destruction,  and  am  going  to  Mount 
Zion ;  and  I  was  told  by  the  man  that  stands  at  the 
gate  at  the  head  of  this  way,  that  if  I  called  here  you 
would  show  me  excellent  things,  such  as  would  be 
helpful  to  me  on  my  journey. 

Inter.  Then  said  the  Interpreter,  Come  in ;  I  will 
show  thee  that  which  will  be  profitable  to  thee.  So  he 
,  commanded  his  man  to  light  the  candle, 

He  is  entertained.  ™  „  „  .  .  , 

and  bid  Christian  follow  him;  so  he 
had  him  into  a  private  room,  and  bid  his  man  open  a 
door ;  the  which  when  he  had  done,  Christian  saw 

Christian  sees  a  the  picture  of  a  very  grave  person  hang 
brave  picture.  Up  against  the  wall ;  and  this  was  the 

fashion  of  it :  it  had  eyes  lifted  up  to  heaven,  the  best 
of  books  in  its  hand,  the  law  of  truth  was  written 
upon  its  lips,  the  world  was  behind  its  back ;  it  stood 
as  if  it  pleaded  with  men,  and  a  crown  of  gold  did 
hang  over  its  head. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christian,  What  meaneth  this  ? 

Inter.  The  man  whose  picture  this  is,  is  one  of  a 
thousand.  Whereas  thou  seest  him  with  his  eyes  lift 
Meaning  of  the  llP  to  heaven,  the  best  of  books  in  his 
picture.  "  hand,  and  the  law  of  truth  writ  on  his 
lips,  it  is  to  show  thee,  that  his  work  is  to  know,  and 


THE  INTERPRETER’S  HOUSE,  45 

unfold  dark  things  to  sinners ;  even  as  also  thou  seest 
him  stand  as  it  he  pleaded  with  men.  And  whereas 
thou  seest  tne  world  as  cast  behind  him,  and  that  a 
crown  hangs  over  his  head ;  that  is  to  show  thee,  that 
Slighting  and  despising  things  that  are  present,  for  the 
love  tnat  he  hath  to  his  Master’s  service,  he  is  sure  in 
the  wmrld  that  comes  next  to  have  glory  for  his  re- 
waid.  Now,  said  the  Interpreter,  I  Why  he  showed 
have  showed  thee  this  picture  first,  be-  £.tllis  picturo 
cause  the  man  whose  picture  this  is,  is  the  only  man 
whom  the  Lord  of  the  place  whither  thou  art  going 
hath  authorized  to  be  thy  guide  in  all  difficult  places 
thou  mayst  meet  with  in  the  way :  wherefore  take 
good  heed  to  what  I  have  showed  thee,  and  bear  well 
in  thy  mind  what  thou  hast  seen,  lest  in  thy  journey 
tiiou  meet  with  some  that  pretend  to  lead  thee  right, 
but  their  way  goes  down  to  death. 

Then  he  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  a 
veiy  laige  pailor  that  was  full  of  dust  because  never 
swept  j  the  which  after  he  reviewed  it  a  little  while, 
the  Interpreter  called  for  a  man  to  sweep.  Now* 
when  he  began  to  sweep,  the  dust  began  so  abundantly 
to  fly  about,  that  Christian  had  almost  therewith  been 
choked.  Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  a  damsel  that 
stood  by,  “Bring  hither  water,  and  sprinkle  the 
room ;  the  which  when  she  had  done,  it  wras  swept  and 
cleansed  with  pleasure. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ? 

Inter.  The  Interpreter  answered,  This  parlor  is  the 
heart  oi  a  man  that  was  never  sanctified  by  the  sweet 
grace  of  the  gospel.  The  dust  is  his  ordinal  sin  an  l 
mward  corruptions,  that  have  defiled  the  whole  mau 
He  that  began  to  sweep  at  first,  is  the  law  -  but  sfi3 
that  brought  water,  and  did  sprinkle  it,  is  the  gospel 


/ 


46 


THE  INTERPRETER’S  HOUSE 


Now  whereas  thou  sawest,  that  as  soon  as  the  first  be¬ 
gan  to  sweep,  the  dust  did  so  fly  about  that  the  room 
could  not  by  him  be  cleansed,  but  that  thou  wast 
almost  choked  therewith ;  this  is  to  show  thee,  that 
the  law,  instead  of  cleansing  the  heart  (by  its  working) 
from  sin,  doth  revive,  Romans,  7:  9;  put  strength  into, 
1  Corinthians,  15 :  56 ;  and  increase  it  in  the  soul, 
Romans,  5  :  20;  even  as  it  doth  discover  and  forbid  if, 
for  it  doth  not  give  power  to  subdue.  Again,  as  thou 
sawest  the  damsel  sprinkle  the  room  with  water,  upon 
which  it  was  cleansed  with  pleasure  ;  this  is  to  show 
thee,  that  when  the  gospel  comes  in  the  sweet  and 
precious  influences  thereof  to  the  heart,  then,  I  say, 
even  as  thou  sawest  the  damsel  lay  the  dust  by  sprink¬ 
ling  the  floor  with  water,  so  is  sin  vanquished  and 
subdued,  and  the  soul  made  clean,  through  the  faith  of 
it,  and  consequently  fit  for  the  King  of  glory  to  inhabit, 
John,  15:3;  Ephesians,  5:2 6;  Acts,  15:9;  Romans, 
16:  25,  26;  John,  15:  13. 

I  saw  moreover  in  my  dream,  that  the  Interpreter 
took  him  by  the  hand,  and  had  him  into  a  little  room, 

lie  showed  him  where  sat  two  little  children,  each  one 

Passion  and  Pa-  ...  ,  rn„  ‘  ,  ,  . 

tience.  in  his  chair.  The  name  of  the  eldest 

was  Passion,  and  the  name  of  the  other  Patience. 
Passion  seemed  to  be  much  discontented,  but  Pa¬ 
tience  was  very  quiet.  Then  Christian  asked,  “  What 
is  the  reason  of  the  discontent  of  Passion  ?”  The  In- 
Passion  will  have  terpreter  answered,  “  The  governor  of 
il  no'v*  them  would  have  him  stay  for  his  best 

things  till  the  beginning  of  next  year ;  but  he  will 

Kticnce  is  for  have  all  now  ;  but  Patience  is  willing 

waiting.  t0  wait.” 

Then  I  saw  that  one  came  to  Passion,  and  brought 
him  a  bag  of  treasure,  and  poured  it  down  at  his 


THE  INTERPRETER’S  HOUSE.  47 

Jeet :  the  which  he  took  up  and  rejoiced  Passion  hath  hi* 
therein,  and  withal  laughed  Patience  to 

scorn.  But  I  beheld  but  a  while,  and  he  had  lavished 
ad  away,^  and  had  nothing  left  him  but.  rags. 

Che.  Then  said  Christian  to  the  Interpreter  Ex¬ 
pound  this  matter  more  fully  to  me. 

Inter.  So  he  said,  These  two  lads  are  figures-  Pas¬ 
sion  of  the  men  of  this  world,  and  Patience°of  the  men 
of  that  which  is  to  come:  for  as  here  thou  seest,  Pas¬ 
sion  will  have  all  now,  this  year,  that  is  to  say,  in  this 
wor  d-  so  are  the  men  of  this  world  ;  they  must  have 
all  their  good  things  now ;  they  cannot  stay  till  the 
next  year,  that  is,  until  the  next  world,  for  their  por¬ 
tion  of  good.  That  proverb,  “A  bird  in  The  worldly  man 
the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush,”  is  bird  in  tho 
of  more  authority  with  them  than  are  all  the  divine 
testimonies  of  the  good  of  the  world  to  come.  But  as 
tnou  sawest  that  he  had  quickly  lavished  all  away,  and 
nad  presently  left  him  nothing  but  rags,  so  will  it  be 
with  all  such  men  at  the  end  of  this  world. 

.  Ch,r-  Then  said  Christian,  Now  I  see  that  Patience 
2ias  the  best  wisdom,  and  that  upon  ma-  Pat- 

ny  accounts.  1.  Because  he  stays  for  best  wSdom*  *  ° 
the  best  things.  2.  And  also  because  he  will  have  the 
glory  of  his,  when  the  other  has  nothing  but  ra^s 
Enter.  Nay,  you  may  add  another,  to  wit,  the  glory 
ox  the  next  world  will  never  wear  out ;  but  these  are 
suddenly  gone.  Therefore  Passion  had  not  so  much 
reason  to  laugh  at  Patience,  because  he  TV  ..  , 
xi.xci  his  good  things  first,  as  Patience  will  first 
have  to  laugh  at  Passion,  because  he  had 
Ins  best  things  last ;  for  first  must  give  ,osti"s' 
place  to  last,  because  last  must  have  his  time  to  come  • 
but  last  gives  place  to  nothing ;  for  there  is  not  another 


48 


THE  INTERPRETER’S  HOUSE. 

to  succeed ;  lie  therefore  that  hath  his  portion  first. 

Dives  had  his  tit  list  needs  have  a  time  to  spend  it ;  but 
good  things  first,  he  that  jjjg  portion  last,  must  have 

it  lastingly :  therefore  it  is  said  of  Dives,  “  In  thy  life¬ 
time  thou  receivedst  thy  good  things,  and  likewise 
Lazarus  evil  things ;  but  now  he  is  comforted  and  thou 
art  tormented.”  Luke,  16  :  25. 

Chr.  Then  I  perceive  it  is  not  best  to  covet  things 
that  are  now,  but  to  wait  for  things  to  come. 

Inter.  You  say  truth:  for  the  things  that  are  seen 

The  first  things  are  temporal,  but  the  things  that  are  not 
are  but  temporal.  seen  are  eternal.  2  Cor.  4:  18.  But 

though  this  be  so,  yet  since  things  present,  and  our 
fleshy  appetite,  are  such  near  neighbors  one  to  another; 
and  again,  because  things  to  come  and  carnal  sense 
are  such  strangers  one  to  another  ;  therefore  it  is,  that 
the  first  of  these  so  suddenly  fall  into  amity,  and  that 
distance  is  so  continued  between  the  second,  Romans, 
7:  15—25. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  Interpreter  took 
Christian  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  into  a  place  where 
was  a  fire  burning  against  a  wall,  and  one  standing 
by  it,  always  casting  much  water  upon  it,  to  quench 
it ;  yet  did  the  fire  burn  higher  and  hotter. 

Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ? 

The  Interpreter  answered,  This  fire  is  the  work  of 
grace  that  is  wrought  in  the  heart ;  he  that  casts  water 
upon  it  to  extinguish  and  put  it  out,  is  the  devil :  but 
in  that  thou  seest  the  fire  notwithstanding  burn  higher 
and  hotter,  thou  slialt  also  see  the  reason  of  that.  So 
lie  had  him  about  to  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  where 
he  saw  a  man  with  a  vessel  of  oil  in  his  hand,  of  the 
which  he  did  also  continually  cast  (but  secretly)  into 
the  fire. 


THE  INTERPRETER’S  HOUSE. 


49 


Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  1 

The  interpreter  answered,  This  is  Christ,  who  con¬ 
tinually,  with  the  oil  of  his  grace,  maintains  the  work 
already  begun  in  the  heart ;  by  the  means  of  which, 
notwithstanding  what  the  devil  can  do,  the  souls  of  his 
people  prove  gracious  still,  2  Corinthians,  12  :  9.  And 
in  that  thou  sawest,  that  the  man  stood  behind  the 
wall  to  maintain  the  fire ;  this  is  to  teach  thee,  that  it 
is  hard  for  the  tempted  to  see  how  this  work  of  grace 
is  maintained  in  the  soul. 

I  saw  also,  that  the  Interpreter  took  him  by  the  hand, 
and  led  him  into  a  pleasant  place,  where  was  built  a 
stately  palace,  beautiful  to  behold;  at  the  sight  of 
which  Christian  was  greatly  delighted.  He  saw  also 
upon  the  top  thereof  certain  persons  walking,1 ■  who 
were  clothed  all  in  gold. 

Then  said  Christian,  May  we  go  in  thither  ? 

Then  the  Interpreter  took  him  and  led  him  up  to¬ 
ward  the  door  of  the  palace  ;  and  behold,  at  the  door 
stood  a  great  company  of  men,  as  desirous  to  go  in, 
but  durst  not.  There  also  sat  a  man  at  a  little  distance 
from  the  door,  at  a  table-side,  with  a  book  and  his  ink- 


horn  before  him,  to  take  the  names  of  them  that  should 
enter  therein  ;  he  saw  also  that  in  the  doorway  stood 
many  men  in  armor  to  keep  it,  being  resolved  to  do 
to  the  men  that  would  enter  what  hurt  and  mischief 
they  could.  Now  was  Christian  somewhat  in  amaze. 
At  last,  when  every  man  started  back  for  fear  of  the 
armed  men,  Christian  saw  a  man  of  a  very  stout  coun¬ 
tenance  come  up  to  the  man  that  sat 
there  to  write,  saying,  u  Set  down  my  ^  he  valiant  man> 
name  sir  j”  the  which  when  he  had  done,  he  saw  the 
man  draw  his  sword,  and  put  a  helmet  upon  his  head, 
and  rush  toward  the  door  upon  the  armed  men,  who 


50 


THE  INTERPRETER’S  HOUSE. 


laid  upon  him  with  deadly  force  ;  but  the  man,  not  at 
all  discouraged,  fell  to  cutting  and  hacking  most  fierce¬ 
ly.  So  after  he  had  received  and  given  many  wounds 
to  those  that  attempted  to  keep  him  out,  Matthew,  1 1 : 
12;  Acts,  14:  22;  he  cut  his  way  through  them  all, 
and  pressed  forward  into  the  palace  ;  at  which  there 
was  a  pleasant  voice  heard  from  those  that  were  within, 
even  of  those  that  walked  upon  the  top  of  the  palace, 
saying, 

“  Come  in,  come  in , 

“  Eternal  glory  shalt  thou  win.*’ 

So  he  went  in,  and  was  clothed  with  such  garments 
as  they.  Then  Christian  smiled,  and  said,  I  think 
verily  I  know  the  meaning  of  this. 

Now,  said  Christian,  Let  me  go  hence.  Nay,  stay, 
said  the  Interpreter,  until  I  have  showed  thee  a  little 
more,  and  after  that  thou  shalt  go  thy  way.  So  he 
Despair  like  an  took  him  by  the  hand  again,  and  led 
mm  cage.  him  into  a  very  dark  room,  where  there 
sat  a  man  in  an  iron  cage. 

Now  the  man,  to  look  on,  seemed  very  sad ;  he  sat 
with  his  eyes  looking  down  to  the  ground,  his  hands 
folded  together,  and  he  sighed  as  if  he  would  break 
his  heart.  Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ? 
At  which  the  Interpreter  bid  him  talk  with  the  man. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  man,  What  art  thou  ? 
The  man  answered,  I  am  what  I  was  not  once  ? 

Chr.  What  was  thou  once  ? 

Man.  The  man  said,  I  was  once  a  fair  and  flourish 
ing  professor,  Luke,  8:  13;  both  in  mine  own  eyes 
and  also  in  the  eyes  of  others :  I  was  once,  as  I 
thought,  fair  fox  the  celestial  city,  and  had  even  joy  at 
the  thoughts  that  I  should  get  thither 


THE  INTERPRETER’S  HOUSE. 


51 


Chr.  Well,  but  what  art  thou  now'? 

Man.  I  am  now  a  man  of  despair,  and  am  shut  up  in 
it,  as  in  this  iron  cage.  I  cannot  get  out.  Oh  now  I 
cannot ! 

Chr.  But  how  earnest  thou  into  this  condition  ? 

Man.  I  left  off  to  watch  and  be  sober:  I  laid  the 
reins  upon  the  neck  of  my  lusts ;  I  sinned  against  the 
light  of  the  word,  and  the  goodness  of  God ;  I  have 
grieved  the  Spirit,  and  he  is  gone;  I  tempted  the 
devil,  and  he  is  come  to  me;  I  have  provoked  God  to 
anger,  and  he  has  left  me ;  I  have  so  hardened  my 
heart  that  I  cannot  repent. 

Then  said  Christian  to  the  Interpreter,  but  are  there 
no  hopes  for  such  a  man  as  this  ?  Ask  him,  said  the 
Interpreter. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christian,  Is  there  no  hope,  but  you 
must  be  kept  in  the  iron  cage  of  despair? 

Man.  No,  none  at  all. 

Chr.  Why,  the  Son  of  the  Blessed  is  very  pitiful. 

Man.  I  have  crucified  him  to  myself  afresh,  He¬ 
brew,  6  :  6.  I  have  despised  his  person,  Luke,  19:  14. 
I  have  despised  his  righteousness  ;  I  have  counted  his 
blood  an  unholy  thing ;  I  have  done  despite  to  the 
Spirit  of  grace,  Hebrew,  10:  28,  29;  therefore  I  shut 
myself  out  of  all  the  promises,  and  there  now  remains 
to  me  nothing  but  threatenings,  dreadful  threatenings, 
fearful  threatenings  of  certain  judgment  and  fiery 
indignation,  which  shall  devour  me  as  an  adversary. 

Chr.  For  what  did  you  bring  yourself  into  this 
condition. 

Man.  For  the  lusts,  pleasures,  and  profits  of  this 
world;  in  the  enjoyment  of  which  I  did  then  promise 
myself  much  delight ;  but  now  every  one  of  those 
things  also  bite  me,  and  gnaw  me,  like  a  burning 
worm. 


52  THE  INTERPRETER  S  HOUSE. 

Chr.  But  canst  thou  not  now  repent  and  turn  7 

Man.  God  hath  denied  me  repentance.  His  word 
gives  me  no  encouragement  to  believe  ;  yea,  himself 
hath  shut  me  up  in  this  iron  cage  :  nor  can  all  the 
men  in  the  world  let  me  out  Oh  eternity  !  eternity  ! 
how  shall  I  grapple  with  the  misery  that  i  must  meet 
with  in  eternity. 

Inter.  Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian,  Let 
this  man’s  misery  be  remembered  by  thee,  and  be  an 
everlasting  caution  to  thee. 

Chr.  Well,  said  Christian,  this  is  fearful!  God  help 
me  to  watch  and  to  be  sober,  and  to  pray  that  I  may 
shun  the  cause  of  this  man’s  misery.  Sir,  is  it  not 
time  for  me  to  go  on  my  way  now  7 

Inter.  Tarry  till  I  shall  show  thee  one  thing  more, 
and  then  thou  shalt  go  on  thy  way. 

So  he  took  Christian  by  the  hand  again,  and  led 
him  into  a  chamber  where  there  was  one  rising  out  of 
bed ;  and  as  he  put  on  his  raiment,  he  shook  and 
trembled.  Then  said  Christian,  Why  doth  this  man 
thus  tremble?  The  Interpreter  then  bid  him  tell  to 
Christian  the  reason  of  his  so  doing.  So  he  began, 
and  said,  “  This  night,  as  I  was  in  my  sleep,  I  dreamed, 
and  behold  the  heavens  grew  exceeding  black  ;  also  it 
thundered  and  lightened  in  most  fearful  wise,  that  it 
put  me  into  an  agony.  So  I  looked  up  in  my  dream, 
and  saw  the  clouds  rack,  at  an  unusual  rate ;  upon 
which  I  heard  a  great  sound  of  a  trumpet,  and  saw  also 
a  man  sitting  upon  a  cloud,  attended  with  the  thou¬ 
sands  of  heaven ;  they  were  all  in  flaming  fire ;  also 
the  heavens  were  in  a  burning  flame.  I  heard  then  a 
great  voice,  saying,  “  Arise,  ye  dead,  and  come  to 
judgment.”  And  with  that  the  rocks  rent,  the  graves 
opened,  and  the  dead  that  were  therein  came  forth : 


THE  INTERPRETER’S  HOUSE.  53 

some  of  them  were  exceeding-  glad,  and  looking  up¬ 
ward  ;  and  some  sought  to  hide  themselves  under  the 
mountains.  Then  I  saw  the  man  that  sat  upon  the 
cloud,  open  the  book  and  bid  the  world  draw  near. 
\  et  there  was,  by  reason  of  a  fierce  flame  which  issued 
out  and  came  before  him,  a  convenient,  distance  be¬ 
twixt  him  and  them,  as  betwixt  the  judge  and  the 
prisoners  at  the  bar,  1  Corinthians,  15 ;  1  Thessaloni- 
ans,  4:  16;  Jude,  15;  John,  5:  28,  29;  2  Thessaloni- 
ans,  1:8;  10;  Revelations,  20:  11;  14;  Isaiah,  26: 
21 ;  Micah,  7  :  16,  17 ;  Psalm  5  :  4 ;  50  ;  1 . 3  ;  Malaehi, 
3  :  2,  3  ;  Daniel,  7 :  9,  10.  I  heard  it  also  proclaimed 
to  them  that  attended  on  the  man  that  sat  on  the  cloud, 
‘  Gather  together  the  tares,  the  chaff,  and  stubble,  and 
cast  them  into  the  burning  lake,’  Matthew,  3 :  12 ;  13 : 
30;  24  :  30;  Malaehi,  4:  1.  And  with  that  the  bot¬ 
tomless  pit  opened,  just  whereabout  I  stood ;  out  of  the 
mouth  of  which  there  came,  in  an  abundant  manner, 
smoke,  and  coals  of  fire,  with  hideous  noises.  It  was 
also  said  to  the  same  persons, {  Gather  my  wheat  into 
the  garner,’  Luke,  3,  17.  And  with  that  I  saw  many 
catched  up  and  carried  away  into  the  clouds ;  but  I 
was  left  behind,  1  Thessalonians,  4 :  16,  17.  I  also 
sought  to  hide  myself,  but  I  could  not ;  for  the  man 
that  sat  upon  the  cloud  still  kept  his  eye  upon  me  : 
my  sins  also  came  into  my  mind  ;  and  my  conscience 
did  accuse  me  on  every  side,  Romans,  2  :  14,  15.  Upon 
this  I  awakened  from  my  sleep.” 

Chr.  But  what  was  it  that  made  you  so  afraid  ol 
this  sight  ? 

Man.  Why  I  thought  that  the  day  of  judgment  was 
come,  and  that  I  was  not  ready  for  it :  but  this  af¬ 
frighted  me  most,  that  the  angels  gathered  up  several, 
and  left  me  behind :  also  the  pit  of  hell  opened  her 

5* 


54  CHRISTIAN  LOSES  HIS  BURDEN  AT  THE  CROSS. 

mouth  just  where  I  stood.  My  conscience  too  afflicted 
me ;  and,  as  I  thought,  the  Judge  had  always  his  eye 
upon  me,  showing  indignation  in  his  countenance.” 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  to  Christian,  “  Hast  thou 
considered  all  these  things  ?” 

Chr.  Yes,  and  they  put  me  in  hope  and  fear. 

Inter.  Well,  keep  all  things  so  in  thy  mind,  that 
they  may  be  as  a  goad  in  thy  sides,  to  prick  thee  for¬ 
ward  in  the  way  thou  must  go.  Then  Christian  be¬ 
gan  to  gird  up  his  loins,  and  to  address  himself  to  his 
journey.  Then  said  the  Interpreter,  “  The  Comforter 
be  always  with  thee,  good  Christian,  to  guide  thee  in 
the  way  that  leads  to  the  city.”  So  Christian  went  on 
his  way,  saying, 

“Here  have  I  seen  things  rare  and  profitable, 

“  Things  pleasant,  dreadful,  things  to  make  me  stable 
“  In  what  I  have  begun  to  take  in  hand : 

“  Then  let  me  think  on  them,  and  understand 
“  Wherefore  they  showed  me  were,  and  let  me  be 
.  “  Thunkful,  O  good  Interpreter,  to  thee.” 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  highway  which 
Christian  was  to  go  was  fenced  on  either  side  with  a 
wall,  and  that  wall  was  called  Salvation,  Isaiah,  26  :  1. 
Up  this  way  therefore  did  burdened  Christian  run, 
but  not  without  great  difficulty,  because  of  the  load  on 
his  back. 

He  ran  thus  till  he  came  at  a  place  somewhat  as¬ 
cending;  and  upon  that  place  stood  a  cross,  and  a  lit¬ 
tle  below,  in  the  bottom,  a  sepulchre.  So  I  saw  in  my 
dream,  that  just  as  Christian  came  up  with  the  cross 
his  burden  loosed  from  off  his  shoulders,  and  fell  from 
oft  his  back,  and  began  to  tumble,  and  so  continued  to 
do  till  it  came  to  the  mouth  of  the  sepulchre,  where  it 
fell  in,  and  I  saw  it  no  more. 


WEEPING  AND  REJOICING  AT  THE  CROSS  OF  CHRIST.  55 

Then  -was  Christian  glad  and  lightsome,  and  said 
with  a  merry  heart,  “  He  hath  given  me  When  God  re_ 
rest  by  his  sorrow,  and  life  by  his  death.”  leases  us  of  our 
Then  he  stood  still  a  while  to  look  and  we'a^a^those 
wonder;  for  it  was  very  surprising  to  tllat leaP for j°y- 
him  that  the  sight  of  the  cross  should  thus  ease  him 
of  his  burden.  He  looked,  therefore,  and  looked  again, 
even  till  the  springs  that  were  in  his  head  sent  the 
waters  down  his  cheeks,  Zechariah,  12  :  10.  Now  as 
he  stood  looking  and  weeping,  behold,  three  Shining 
Ones  came  to  him,  and  saluted  him  with  “  Peace  be  to 
thee.”  So  the  first  said  to  him,  “  Thy  sins  be  forgiven 
thee,”  Mark,  2  :  5,  the  second  stripped  him  of  his  rags, 
and  clothed  him  with  change  of  raiment,  Zechariah,  3 : 
4,  the  third  also  set  a  mark  on  his  forehead,  Ephesians, 
1  :  13,  and  gave  him  a  roll  with  a  seal  upon  it,  which 
he  bid  him  look  on  as  he  ran,  and  that  he  should  give 
it  in  at  the  celestial  gate  ;  so  they  went  their  way. 
Then  Christian  gave  three  leaps  for  joy,  and  went  on 
singing, 

“  Thus  far  did  I  come  laden'with  my  sin; 

“  Nor  could  aught  ease  the  grief  that  I  was  in, 

“  Till  I  came  hither  :  what  a  place  is  this ! 

“  Must  here  be  the  beginning  of  my  bliss? 

“  Must  here  the  burden  fall  from  off  my  back  ? 

“Must  here  the  strings  that  bound  it  to  me  crack? 

“  Blest  cross  !  blest  sepulchre  !  blest  rather  be 

“  The  Man  that  there  was  put  to  shame  for  me !” 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  he  went  on  thus,  even 
until  he  came  at  the  bottom,  where  he  saw,  a  little  out 
of  the  way,  three  men  fast  asleep,  with  Simple>  sloth, 
fetters  upon  their  heels.  The  name  of  anJ  Presumption. 

the  one  was  simple,  of  another  Sloth,  and  of  the  third 
Presumption. 

Christian  then  seeing  them  lie  in  this  case,  went  to 


A  Christian  can 
sing,  though  alone, 
when  God  doth 
give  him  joy  in  his 
heart. 


56  SIMPLE,  SLOTH,  AND  PRESUMPTION. 

them,  if  peradventure  he  might  awake  them,  and  cried, 
You  are  like  them  that  sleep  on  the  top  of  a  mast, 
Proverbs,  23  :  34,  for  the  dead  sea  is  under  you,  a  gulf 
that  hath  no  bottom :  awake,  therefore,  and  come  away  ; 
be  willing  also,  and  I  will  help  you  off  with  your  irons. 
He  also  told  them,  If  he  that  goeth  about  like  a  roar-  * 
ing  lion  1  Peter,  5  :  8,  comes  by,  you  will  certainly 
become  a  prey  to  his  teeth.  With  that  they  looked 
There  is  no  per-  upon  him,  and  began  to  reply  in  this 

suasion  will  do,  if  .  o-  i  t  j 

God  openeth  not  sort :  Simple  said,  I  see  no  danger ;  Sloth 

theeye3,  said,  Yet  a  little  more  sleep;  and  Pre¬ 

sumption  said,  Every  tub  must  stand  upon  its  own 
bottom.  And  so  they  lay  down  to  sleep  again,  and 
Christian  went  on  his  way. 

Yet  was  he  troubled  to  think,  that  men  in  that  dan¬ 
ger  should  so  little  esteem  the  kindness  of  him  that  so 
freely  offered  to  help  them,  both  by  awakening  of 
them,  counselling  of  them,  and  proffering  to  help  them 
off  with  their  irons.  And  as  he  was  troubled  there¬ 
about,  he  espied  two  men  come  tumbling  over  the 
wall  on  the  left  hand  of  the  narrow  way ;  and  they 
made  up  apace  to  him.  The  name  of  the  one  was 
Formalist,  and  the  name  of  the  other  Hypocrisy.  So, 
as  I  said,  they  drew  up  unto  him,  who  thus  entered 
with  them  into  discourse. 

Chr.  Gentlemen,  whence  came  you,  and  whither  do 

Christian  tallt3  Y^U  gO  ? 

with  them.  Form,  and  Hyp.  We  were  born  in 

the  land  of  Vain-glory,  and  are  going  for  praise  to 
*  Mount  Sion. 

Chr.  Why  came  you  not  in  at  the  gate  which  stand- 
eth  at  the  beginning  of  the  way  ?  Know  ye  not  that  it 
is  written,  that  “  he  that  cometh  not  in  by  the  door, 
but  climbeth  up  some  other  way,  the  same  is  a  thief 
and  a  robber?”  John,  10  :  1. 


FORMALIST  AND  HYPOCRISY. 


57 


Form,  and  Hyp.  They  said,  that  to  go  to  the  gate 
for  entrance  was  by  all  their  countrymen  counted  too 
far  about ;  and  that  therefore  their  usual  way  was  to 
make  a  short  cut  of  it,  and  to  climb  over  the  wall  as 
they  had  done. 

Chr.  But  will  it  not  be  counted  a  trespass  against 
the  Lord  of  the  city  whither  we  are  bound,  thus  to 
violate  his  revealed  will  ? 

Form,  and  Hyp.  They  told  him,  that  as  for  that,  he 
needed  not  to  trouble  his  head  thereabout :  for  what 
they  did  they  had  custom  for,  and  could  produce)  if 
need  were,  testimony  that  would  witness  it,  for  more 
than  a  thousand  years. 

Chr.  But,  said  Christian,  will  your  practice  stand  a 
trial  at  law  ? 


Form,  and  Hyp.  They  told  him,  that  custom,  it  be¬ 
ing  of  so  long  standing  as  above  a  thou-  They  that  como 
sand  years,  would  doubtless  now  be  ad-  int0  the  way>  but 
mitted  as  a  thing  legal  by  an  impartial  think  that'they can 
judge  :  and  besides,  said  they,  if  we  get  SSSheS 
into  the  way,  what  matter  is  it  which  own  practice. 


way  we  get  in  ?  If  we  are  in,  we  are  in  :  thou  art  but 
in  the  way,  who,  as  we  perceive,  came  in  at  the  gate; 
and  we  also  are  in  the  way,  that  came  tumbling  over 
the  wall:  wherein  now  is  thy  condition  better  than 
ours  ? 

Chr.  I  walk  by  the  rule  of  my  Master:  you  walk  by 
the  rude  working  of  your  fancies.  You  are  counted 
thieves  already  by  the  Lord  of  the  way :  therefore  I 
doubt  you  will  not  be  found  true  men  at  the  end  of  the 
way.  You  come  in  by  yourselves  without  his  direc¬ 
tion,  and  shall  go  out  by  yourselves  without  his  mercy. 

To  this  they  made  him  but  little  answer;  only  they 
bid  him  look  to  himself.  Then  I  saw  that  they  went 


58 


FORMALIST  AND  HYPOCRISY. 


on  every  man  in  his  way,  without  much  conference 
one  with  another  ;  save  that  these  two  men  told  Chris¬ 
tian,  that  as  to  laws  and  ordinances,  they  doubted  not 
but  that  they  should  as  conscientiously  do  them  as  he. 
Therefore,  said  they,  we  see  not  wherein  thou  dif- 
ferest  from  us,  but  by  the  coat  that  is  on  thy  back, 
which  was,  as  we  trow,  given  thee  by  some  of  thy 
neighbors,  to  hide  the  shame  of  thy  nakedness. 

Chr.  By  laws  and  ordinances  you  will  not  be  saved 
since  you  came  not  in  by  the  door,  Galatians,  2  :  16. 
And  as  for  this  coat  that  is  on  my  back,  it  was  given 
me  by  the  Lord  of  the  place  whither  I  go;  and  that,  as 
you  say,  to  cover  my  nakedness  with.  And  I  take  it 
as  a  token  of  his  kindness  to  me;  for  I  had  nothing  but 
Christian  has  got  ^"ao®  before.  And  besides  thus  I  com- 

hisLb0arck!Ca°nd0b  fort  myself  as  1  g°-  Surely,  think  I, 
comforted  there-  when  I  come  to  the  gate  of  the  city,  the 

Lord  thereof  will  know  me  for  good, 
since  I  have  his  coat  on  my  back;  a  coat  that  he  gave 

also  withChSfma?k  me  ^ree^  m  ^ie  day  that  he  stript  me  of 
and  his  roil.  *  my  rags.  I  have,  moreover,  a  mark  in 

my  forehead,  of  which  perhaps  you  have  taken  no  no¬ 
tice,  which  one  of  my  Lord’s  most  intimate  associates 
fixed  there  in  the  day  that  my  burden  fell  off  my  shoul¬ 
ders.  I  will  tell  you,  moreover,  that  I  had  then  given  me 
a  roll  sealed,  to  comfort  me  by  reading  as  I  go  in  the 
way ;  I  was  also  bid  to  give  it  in  at  the  celestial  gate, 
in  token  of  my  certain  going  in  after  it ;  all  which 
things  I  doubt  you  want,  and  want  them  because  you 
came  not  in  at  the  gate. 

To  these  things  they  gave  him  no  answer ;  only 
they  looked  upon  each  other,  and  laughed.  Then  I 
Christian  has  talk  saw  that  they  went  on  all,  save  that 
with  himself.  Christian  kept  before,  who  had  no  more 


CHRISTIAN  REACHES  THE  HILL  DIFFICULTY.  59 

talk  but  w  ith  himseh,  and  that  sometimes  sighingly, 
and  sometimes  comfortably:  also  he  would  be  often 
reading  in  the  roll  that  one  of  the  Shining  Ones  gave 
him,  by  which  he  was  refreshed. 

I  beheld  then,  that  they  all  went  on  till  they  came 
to  the  foot  of  the  hill  Difficulty,  at  the  „ 
bottom  of  which  there  was  a  spring,  hill  DiSity.0  ^ 
There  were  also  in  the  same  place  two  other  ways 
besides  that  which  came  straight  from  the  gate  :  one 
turned  to  the  left  hand,  and  the  other  to  the  right,  at 
the  bottom  of  the  hill ;  but  the  narrow  way  lay  right 
up  the  hill,  and  the  name  of  the  going  up  the  side  of 
the  hill  is  called  Difficulty.  Christian  now  went  to 
the  spring,  Isaiah,  49:  10;  and  drank  thereof  to  re¬ 
fresh  himself,  and  then  began  to  go  up  the  hill,  saying, 

The  hill,  though  high,  I  covet  to  ascend ; 

The  difficulty  will  not  me  offend ; 

For  I  perceive  the  way  to  life  lies  here: 

Come,  pluck  up  heart,  let’s  neither  faint  nor  fear. 

Better,  though  difficult,  the  right  way  to  go, 

1  han  wrong,  though  easy,  where  the  end  is  woo. 

The  other  two  also  came  to  the  foot  of  the  hill. 
But  when  they  saw  that  the  hill  was  steep  and  high, 
and  that  there  were  two  other  ways  to  go  ;  and  sup¬ 
posing  also  that  these  two  ways  might  meet  again 
with  that  up  which  Christian  went  on  the  other  side 
ol  the  hill ;  therefore  they  were  resolved  to  go  in 
those  ways.  Now  the  name  of  one  of  those  ways 
was  Danger,  and  the  name  of  the  other  Destruction. 
So  the  one  took  the  way  which  is  called  The  danger  of 
Danger,  which  led  him  into  a  great  out  of  the 
wood  j  and  the  other  took  directly  up  the  way  to  De¬ 
struction,  which  led  him  into  a  wide  field,  full  of  dark 

mountains,  where  he  stumbled  and  fell,  and  rose  no 
more. 


60  HE  CLIMBS  THE  HILL. — THE  ARBOR. 

I  looked  then  after  Christian,  to  see  him  go  up  the 
hill,  where  I  perceived  he  fell  from  running  to  going, 
and  from  going  to  clambering  upon  his  hands  and  his 
a  word  of  grace,  knees,  because  of  the  steepness  of  the 
place.  Now  about  midway  to  the  top  of  the  hill  was  a 
pleasant  Arbor,  made  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill  for  the 
refreshment  of  weary  travellers.  Thither,  therefore, 
Christian  got,  where  also  he  sat  down  to  rest  him  : 
then  he  pulled  his  roll  out  ofh  is  bosom,  and  read  therein 
to  his  comfort ;  he  also  now  began  afresh  to  take  a  re¬ 
view  of  the  coat  or  garment  that  was  given  him  as  he 
stood  by  the  cross.  Thus  pleasing  himself  awhile,  he 
at  last  fell  into  a  slumber,  and  thence  into  a  fast  sleep, 
which  detained  him  in  that  place  until  it  was  almost 
He  that  sleep.?  is  night ;  and  in  his  sleep  his  roll  fell  out 
aloser*  of  his  hand.  Now  as  he  was  sleeping, 

there  came  one  to  him,  and  awaked  him,  saying,  “Co 
to  the  ant  thou  sluggard;  consider  her  ways  and  be 
wise,”  Proverbs,  6  :  6.  And  with  that  Christian  sud¬ 
denly  started  up,  and  sped  him  on  his  way,  and  went 
apace  till  he  came  to  the  top  of  the  hill. 

Now  when  he  was  got  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  there 
came  two  men  running  to  meet  him  amain  ;  the  name 
"leel®  of  the  one  was  Timorous,  and  of  the 

with  Mistrust  and 

Timorous.  other  Mistrust :  to  whom  Christian  said, 

Sirs,  what’s  the  matter?  you  run  the  wrong  way. 
Timorous  answered,  that  they  were  going  to  the  city 
of  Zion,  and  had  got  up  that  difficult  place  :  but,  said 
he,  the  farther  we  go  the  more  danger  we  meet  with ; 
wherefore  we  turned,  and  are  going  back  again. 

Yes,  said  Mistrust,  for  just  before  us  lie  a  couple  of 
lions  in  the  way,  whether  sleeping  or  waking  we  know 
not ,  and  we  could  not  think,  if  we  came  within  reach, 
out  they  would  presently  pull  us  in  pieces. 


HE  MISSES  HIS  ROLL. 


61 

Chr.  Then  said  Christian,  You  make  me  afraid; 
but  whither  shall  I  fly  to  be  safe  ?  If  I  go  back  to  my 
own  country,  that  is  prepared  for  fire  and  brimstone, 
and  I  shall  certainly  perish  there ;  if  I  can  get  to  the 
celestial  city,  I  am  sure  to  be  in  safety  there  :  I  must 
venture.  To  go  back  is  nothing  but  chebtim  dd> 
death :  to  go  forward  is  fear  of  death  off  fear- 
and  life  everlasting  beyond  it:  I  will  yet  go  forward. 
So  Mistrust  and  Timorous  ran  down  the  hill,  and 
Christian  went  on  his  way.  But  thinking  again  of  what 
he  heard  from  the  man,  he  felt  in  his  bosom  for  his 
roll,  that  he  might  read  therein,  and  be  ChrWln  ni8»„e 
comtorted;  but  he  felt,  and  found  it  not  hls  ro11  wherein  he 
Then  was  Christian  in  great  distress,'  fof  *  take  com* 
and  knew  not  what  to  do ;  for  he  wanted  that  which 
used  to  relieve  him,  and  that  which  should  have  been 
his  pass  into  the  celestial  city.  Here,  therefore 
he  began  to  be  much  perplexed,  and  TI  - 
knew  not  what  to  do.  At  last  he  be-  for  his  roRe.rpIeXed 
thought  himself  that  he  had  slept  in  the  arbor  that  is 
on  the  side  of  the  hill;  and  falling  down  upon  his 
knees,  he  asked  God  forgiveness  for  that  his  foolish 
act,  and  then  went  back  to  look  for  his  roll.  But  all 
the  way  he  went  back,  who  can  sufficiently  set  forth 
the  sorrow  of  Christian’s  heart  ?  Sometimes  he  sighed 
sometimes  he  wept,  and  oftentimes  he  chid  himself 
for  being  so  foolish  to  fall  asleep  in  that  place,  which 
was  erected  only  for  a  little  refreshment  from  his 
weariness.  Thus,  therefore,  he  went  back,  carefully 
looking  on  this  side  and  on  that,  all  the  way  as  he 
went,  if  happily  he  might  find  his  roll  that  had’been 
his  comfort  so  many  times  in  his  journey.  He  went 
thus  till  he  came  again  within  sight  of  the  arbor 
where  he  sat  and  slept;  but  that  sight  renewed 


62  HE  GOES  TO  THE  ARBOR  AND  FINDS  HIS  ROLL. 

his  sorrow  the  more,  by  bringing  again  even 

Christian  bewails  afresh,  his  evil  of  sleeping  unto  his 
his  foolish  sleeping.  mind)  Revelations,  2:  4;  1  Thessaloni- 

ans,  5:  6 — 8.  Thus,  therefore,  he  now  went  on,  be¬ 
wailing  his  sinful  sleep,  saying,  O  wretched  man  that 
l  am,  that  I  should  sleep  in  the  day-time !  that  I  should 
sleep  in  the  midst  of  difficulty  !  that  I  should  so  in¬ 
dulge  the  flesh  as  to  use  that  rest  for  ease  to  my  flesh 
which  the  Lord  of  the  hill  hath  erected  only  for  the 
relief  of  the  spirits  of  pilgrims !  How  many  steps  have 
I  taken  in  vain !  Thus  it  happened  to  Israel  ;  for  their 
sin  they  were  sent  back  again  by  the  way  of  the  Red 
Sea;  and  I  am  made  to  tread  those  steps  with  sorrow, 
which  I  might  have  trod  with  delight  had  it  not  been 
for  this  sinful  sleep.  How  far  might  I  have  been  on 
my  way  b}^  this  time !  I  am  made  to  tread  those  steps 
thrice  over,  which  I  needed  not  to  have  trod  but  once : 
yea,  now  also  I  am  like  to  be  benighted,  for  the  day  is 
almost  spent.  O  that  I  had  not  slept ! 

Now  by  this  time  he  was  come  to  the  arbor  again, 

Christian  findeth  where  for  a  while  he  sat  down  and  wept; 
his  roil  where  he  but  at  last  (as  Providence  would  have 

it)  looking  sorrowfully  down  under  the 
settle,  there  he  espied  his  roll,  the  which  he  with  trem¬ 
bling  and  haste  catched  up,  and  put  it  into  his  bosom. 
But  who  can  tell  how  joyful  this  man  was  when  he 
had  gotten  his  roll  again  ?  For  this  roll  was  the  as¬ 
surance  of  his  life,  and  acceptance  at  the  desired  haven. 
Therefore  he  laid  it  up  in  his  bosom,  gave  thanks  to 
God  for  directing  his  eye  to  the  place  where  it  lay,  and 
with  joy  and  tears  betook  himself  again  to  his  journey. 
But  oh  how  nimbly  now  did  he  go  up  the  rest  of  the 
hill !  Yet,  before  he  got  up,  the  sun  went  down  upon 
Christian ;  and  this  made  him  again  recall  the  vanity 


THE  PALACE  CALLED  BEAUTIFUL.  63 

of  his  sleeping  to  his  remembrance ;  and  thus  he  again 
began  to  condole  with  himself :  Oh  thou  sinful  sleep  ! 
how  for  thy  sake  am  I  like  to  be  benighted  in  my  jour¬ 
ney  !  I  must  walk  without  the  sun,  darkness  must 
cover  the  path  of  my  feet  and  I  must  hear  the  noise  of 
the  doleful  creatures,  because  of  my  sinful  sleep !  Now 
also  he  remembered  the  story  that  Mistrust  and  Timo¬ 
rous  told  him,  of  how  they  were  frighted  with  the 
sight  of  the  lions.  Then  said  Christian  to  himself 
again,  These  beasts  range  in  the  night  for  their  prey, 
and  if  they  should  meet  with  me  in  the  dark,  how 
should  I  shift  them?  how  should  I  escape  being  by 
them  torn  in  pieces?  Thus  he  went  on  his  way.  But 
while  he  was  thus  bewailing  his  unhappy  miscarriage, 
he  lift  up  his  eyes,  and  behold  there  was  a  very  stately 
palace  before  him,  the  name  of  which  was  Beautiful, 
and  it  stood  just  by  the  highway -side,  Revelations,  3  : 
2  ;  1  Thessalonians,  5  :  7,  8. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  he  made  haste,  and  went 
forward,  that  if  possible  he  might  get  lodging  there. 
Now  before  he  had  gone  far  he  entered  into  a  very 
narrow  passage,  which  was  about  a  furlong  off  the 
Porter’s  lodge ;  and  looking  very  narrowly  before  him 
as  he  went,  he  espied  two  lions  in  the  way.  Now, 
thought  he,  I  see  the  dangers  that  Mistrust  and  Timo¬ 
rous  were  driven  back  by.  (The  lions  were  chained, 
but  he  saw  not  the  chains.)  Then  he  was  afraid,  and* 
thought  also  himself  to  go  back  after  them ;  for  he 
thought  nothing  but  death  was  before  him.  But  the 
Porter  at  the  lodge,  whose  name  is  Watchful,  perceiv¬ 
ing  that  Christian  made  a  halt,  as  if  he  would  go  back, 
cried  unto  him,  saying,  Is  thy  strength  so  small? 
Mark,  4 :  40.  Fear  not  the  lions,  for  they  are  chained, 
and  are  placed  there  for  trial  of  faith  where  it  is,  and 


64  THE  LIONS. — CONVERSATION  WITH  THE  PORTER. 

for  discovery  of  those  that  have  none  :  keep  in  the 
midst  of  the  path,  and  no  hurt  shall  come  unto  thee. 

Then  I  saw  that  he  went  on  trembling  for  fear  of 
the  lions ;  but  taking  good  heed  to  the  directions  of 
the  Porter,  he  heard  them  roar,  but  they  did  him  no 
harm.  Then  he  clapped  his  hands,  and  went  on  till 
he  came  and  stood  before  the  gate  where  the  Porter 
was.  Then  said  Christian  to  the  Porter,  Sir,  what  house 
is  this  ?  and  may  I  lodge  here  to-night  ?  The  Porter 
answered,  This  house  was  built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill, 
and  he  built  it  for  the  relief  and  security  of  pilgrims. 
The  Porter  also  asked  whence  he  was,  and  whither  he 
was  going. 

Chr.  I  am  come  from  the  city  of  Destruction,  and 
am  going  to  Mount  Zion  :  but  because  the  sun  is  now 
set,  I  desire,  if  I  may,  to  lodge  here  to-night. 

Port.  What  is  your  name  ? 

Chr.  My  name  is  now  Christian,  but  my  name  at 
the  first  was  Graceless :  I  came  of  the  race  of  Ja- 
pheth,  whom  God  will  persuade  to  dwell  in  the  tents 
of  Shem,  Genesis,  9 :  27. 

Port.  But  how  doth  it  happen  that  you  come  so 
late  1  The  sun  is  set. 

Chr.  I  had  been  here  sooner,  but  that,  wretched  man 
as  I  am,  I  slept  in  the  arbor  that  stands  on  the  hill 
side!  Nay,  I  had,  notwithstanding  that,  been  here 
much  sooner,  but  that  in  my  sleep  I  lost  my  evidence, 
and  came  without  it  to  the  brow  of  the  hill :  and  then 
feeling  for  it,  and  finding  it  not,  I  was  forced  with 
sorrow  of  heart  to  go  back  to  the  place  where  I  slept 
my  sleep,  where  I  found  it ;  and  now  I  am  come. 

Port.  Well,  I  will  call  out  one  of  the  virgins  of  this 
place,  who  will,  if  she  likes  your  talk,  bring  you  in  to 
the  rest  of  the  family,  according  to  the  rules  of  the 


CONVERSATION  WITH  DISCRETION. 


65 


house.  So  Watchful  the  Porter  rang  a  bell,  at  the 
sound  of  which  came  out  of  the  door  of  the  house  a 
grave  and  beautiful  damsel,  named  Discretion,  and 
asked  why  she  was  called. 

The  Porter  answered,  This  man  is  on  a  journey 
from  the  city  of  Destruction  to  Mount  Zion ;  but  being 
weary  and  benighted,  he  asked  me  if  he  might  lodge 
here  to-night:  so  I  told  him  I  would  call  for  thee, 
who,  after  discourse  had  with  him,  mayest  do  as 
seemeth  thee  good,  even  according  to  the  law  of  the 
house. 

Then  she  asked  him  whence  he  was,  and  whither  he 
was  going ;  and  he  told  her.  She  asked  him  also  how 
he  got  into  the  way;  and  he  told  her.  Then  she  asked 
him  what  he  had  seen  and  met  with  in  the  way,  and 
he  told  her.  And  at  last  she  asked  his  name.  So  he 
said,  It  is  Christian;  and  I  have  so  much  the  more  a 
desire  to  lodge  here  to-night,  because,  by  what  I  per¬ 
ceive,  this  place  was  built  by  the  Lord  of  the  hill  for 
the  relief  and  security  of  pilgrims.  So  she  smiled,  but 
the  water  stood  in  her  eyes ;  and  after  a  little  pause 
§he  said,  I  will  call  forth  two  or  three  more  of  the  fa¬ 
mily.  So  she  ran  to  the  door,  and  called  out  Prudence, 
Piety,  and  Charity,  who,  after  a  little  more  discourse 
with  him,  had  him  into  the  family ;  and  many  of  them 
meeting  him  at  the  threshold  of  the  house,  said,  Come 
in,  thou  blessed  of  the  Lord ;  this  house  was  built  by 
the  Lord  of  the  hill  on  purpose  to  entertain  such  pil¬ 
grims  in.  Then  he  bowed  his  head,  and  followed  them 
into  the  house.  So  when  he  was  come  in  and  sat  down, 
they  gave  him  something  to  drink,  and  consented  to¬ 
gether  that,  until  supper  was  ready,  some  of  them 
should  have  some  particular  discourse  with  Christian, 
for  the  best  improvement  of  time ;  and  they  appointed 

6* 


66 


TALK  WITH  PIETY, 


Piety,  Prudence,  and  Charity  to  discourse  with  him; 
and  thus  they  began. 

Piety.  Come,  good  Christian,  since  we  have  been 

Piety  discourses  so  loving  to  you  to  receive  you  into 
‘Vlth  lum'  our  house  this  night,  let  us,  if  perhaps 

we  may  better  ourselves  thereby,  talk  with  you  of 
all  things  that  have  happened  to  you  in  your  pil¬ 
grimage. 

Chr.  With  a  very  good  will ;  and  I  am  glad  that 
you  are  so  well  disposed. 

Piety.  What  moved  you  at  first  to  betake  yourself 
to  a  pilgrim’s  life? 

Chr.  I  was  driven  out  of  my  native  country  by  a 

How  Christian  dreadful  sound  that  was  in  mine 
was  driven  out  of  ears ;  to  wit,  that  unavoidable  destruc- 

his  own  country. 

tion  did  attend  me,  if  I  abode  in  that 
place  where  I  was. 

Piety.  But  how  did  it  happen  that  you  came  out  of 
your  country  this  way  ? 

Chr.  It  was  as  God  would  have  it;  for  when  I  was 
under  the  fears  of  destruction  I  did  not  know  whither 


How  he  got  into  to  go ;  but  by  chance  there  came  a  man, 
the  way  to  Zion.  even  t0  me?  ag  j  wag  trembling  and 

weeping,  whose  name  is  Evangelist,  and  he  directed 
me  to  the  Wicket-Gate,  which  else  I  should  never 
have  found,  and  so  set  me  into  the  way  that  hath  led 
me  directly  to  this  house. 

Piety.  But  did  you  not  come  by  the  house  of  the 
Interpreter. 

Chr.  Yes,  and  did  see  such  things  there,  the  remem- 

A  rehearsal  of  brallCe  of  which  will  stick  by  me  as 
what  he  saw  in  the  long  as  I  live,  especially  three  things; 

to  wit,  how  Christ,  in  despite  of  Satan, 
maintains  his  work  of  grace  in  the  heart;  how  the  man 


PRUDENCE,  AND  CHARITY.  67 

had  sinned  himself  quite  out  of  hopes  of  God’s  mere}’-; 
and  also  the  dream  of  him  that  thought  in  his  sleep 
the  day  of  judgment  was  come. 

Piety.  Why,  did  you  hear  him  tell  his  dream? 

Chr.  Yes,  and  a  dreadful  one  it  was,  I  thought ;  it 
made  my  heart  ache  as  he  was  telling  of  it ;  but  yet  I 
am  glad  I  heard  it. 

Piety.  Was  this  all  you  saw  at  the  house  of  the 
Interpreter. 

Chr.  No  ;  he  took  me,  and  had  me  where  he  showed 
me  a  stately  palace,  and  how  the  people  were  clad  in 
gold  that  were  in  it ;  and  how  there  came  a  venturous 
man,  and  cut  his  way  through  the  armed  men  that 
stood  in  the  door  to  keep  him  out;  and  how  he  was 
bid  to  come  in,  and  win  eternal  glory.  Methought 
those  things  did  ravish  my  heart.  I  would  have  stayed 
at  that  good  man’s  house  a  twelvemonth,  but  that  I 
knew  I  had  farther  to  go. 

Piety.  And  what  saw  you  else  in  the  way? 

Chr.  Saw  ?  W  hy  I  went  but  a  little-  farther,  and  1 
saw  one,  as  I  thought  in  my  mind,  hang  bleeding  upon 
a  tree;  and  the  very  sight  of  him  made. my  burden 
fall  off  my  back;  for  I  groaned  under  a  very  heavy 
burden,  but  then  it  fell  down  from  off  me.  It  was  a 
strange  thing  to  me,  for  I  never  saw  such  a  thing  be¬ 
fore:  yea,  and  while  I  stood  looking  up,  (for  then  I 
could  not  forbear  looking,)  three  Shining  Ones  came 
to  me.  One  of  them  testified  that  my  sins  were  for¬ 
given  me;  another  stripped  me  of  my  rags,  and  gave 
me  this  broidered  coat  which  you  see ;  and  the  third 
set  the  mark  which  you  see  in  my  forehead,  and  gave 
me  this  sealed  roll,  (and  with  that  he  plucked  it  out  of 
his  bosom.) 

Piety.  But  you  saw  more  than  this,  did  you  not  ? 


68 


TALK  WITH  PIETY 


Chr.  The  things  that  I  have  told  you  were  the  best; 
yet  some  other  matters  I  saw,  as  namely,  I  saw  three 
men,  Simple,  Sloth,  and  Presumption,  lie  asleep,  a 
little  out  of  the  way,  as  I  came,  with  irons  upon  their 
heels ;  but  do  you  think  I  could  awake  them  ?  I  also 
saw  Formality  and  Hypocrisy  come  tumbling  over 
the  wall,  to  go,  as  they  pretended,  to  Zion ;  but  they 
were  quickly  lost,  even  as  I  myself  did  tell  them,  but 
they  would  not  believe.  But,  above  all,  I  found  it 
hard  work  to  get  up  this  hill,  and  as  hard  to  come 
by  the  lions’  mouths;  and  truly,  if  it  had  not  been  for 
the  good  man  the  porter,  that  stands  at  the  gate,  I  do 
not  know  but  that,  after  all,  I  might  have  gone  back 
again  ;  but  I  thank  God  I  am  here,  and  thank  you  for 
receiving  me. 

Then  Prudence  thought  good  to  ask  him  a  few 
questions,  and  desired  his  answer  to  them. 

Prudence  dis-  Pr.  Do  you  not  think  sometimes  of 
courses  with  hun.  ^  country  from  whence  you  came  ? 

Chr.  Yea;  but  with  much  shame  and  detestation. 

Christian’s  Trilly’  if  1  had  beei1  mindful  <>f  that 

thoughts  of  his  country  from  whence  I  came  out,  I 
native  country.  might  have  had  opportunity  to  have 

returned,  but  now  I  desire  a  better  country,  that  is,  a 
heavenly  one,  Hebrews,  11 :  15, 16. 

Pr.  Do  you  not  yet  bear  away  with  some  of  the 
things  that  then  you  were  conversant  withall? 

Chr.  Yes,  but  greatly  against  my  will;  especially 
my  inward  and  carnal  cogitations,  with  which  all  my 
countrymen,  as  well  as  myself,  were  delighted.  But 
now  all  those  things  are  my  grief;  and  might  I  but 

Christian's  choicr.  Ch°°Se  mine  things, I  Would  chOQSO 
never  to  think  of  those  things  more ; 

but  when  I  would  be  a  doing  that  which  is  best, 
that  which  is  worst  is  with  me,  Romans,  7:  15;  21. 


PRUDENCE,  AND  CHARITY. 


69 


Pr.  Do  you  not  find  sometimes  as  if  those  things  were 
vanquished,  which  at  other  times  are  your  perplexity  7 

Chr.  Yes,  but  that  is  but  seldom;  but  they  are  to 

me  golden  hours  in  which  such  things  Christian’s  golden 
nappen  to  me.  hours- 

Pr.  Can  you  remember  by  what  means  you  find 
your  annoyances  at  times  as  if  they  were  vanquished  ? 

Chr.  Yes  ;  when  I  think  of  what  I  saw  at  the  cross, 
that  will  do  it ;  and  when  I  look  upon  How  christian 
my  broidered  coat,  that  will  do  it;  and  gets  power  against 
when  I  look  into  the  roll  that  I  carry  “is  ' 

in  my  bosom,  that  will  do  it;  and  when  my  thoughts 
wax  warm  about  whither  I  am  going,  that  will  do  it. 

Pr.  And  what  is  it  that  makes  you  so  desirous  to  go 
to  Mount  Zion. 

Chr.  Why,  there  I  hope  to  see  Him  alive  that  did 
hang  on  the  cross ;  and  there  I  hope  to  Why  Christian 
be  rid  of  all  those  things  that  to  this  be  a‘ M°u,“ 
day  are  in  me  an  annoyance  to  me :  there  they  say 
there  is  no  death,  Isaiah,  25 :  8 ;  Revelations,  21:4; 
and  there  I  shall  dwell  with  such  company  as  I  like 
best.  For,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  love  Him  because  I 
was  by  him  eased  of  my  burden ;  and  I  am  weary 
of  my  inward  sickness.  I  would  fain  be  where  I  shall 
die  no  more,  and  with  the  company  that  shall  conti¬ 
nually  cry,  Holy,  Holy ,  Holy. 

Then  said  Charity  to  Christian,  Have  CMy  <n,cour.. 
you  a  family,  are  you  a  married  man  ?  es  with  him* 

Chr.  I  have  a  wife  and  four  small  children. 

Char.  And  why  did  you  not  bring  them  along  with 
you  ? 

Chr.  Then  Christian  wept,  and  said,  Oh,  how  will¬ 
ingly  WOUld  I  have  done  it  !  but  they  Christian’s  love 

were  all  of  them  utterly  averse  to  my  t0.  hi®  wife 
going  on  pilgrimage.  children. 


70 


TALK  WITH  PIETY, 

Char.  But  you  should  have  talked  with  them,  and 
have  endeavored  to  have  shown  them  the  danger  of 
staying  behind. 

Chr.  So  I  did ;  and  told  them  also  what  God  had 
shown  to  me  of  the  destruction  of  our  city ;  but  I 
seemed  to  them  as  one  that  mocked,  and  they  believed 
me  not,  Genesis,  19:  14. 

Char.  And  did  you  pray  to  God  that  he  would  bless 
your  counsel  to  them  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  and  that  with  much  affection ;  for  you 
must  think  that  my  wife  and  poor  children  were  very 
dear  to  me. 


Char.  But  did  you  tell  them  of  your  own  sorrow, 
and  fear  of  destruction  ?  fori  suppose  that  destruction 
was  visible  enough  to  you. 

cjinstian’s  fear  Chr.  Yes,  over,  and  over,  and  over. 

of  perishing  might  3  ’  ,  ^  v 

be  read  in  his  very  Ihey  might  also  see  my  fears  in  my 
countenance.  countenance,  in  my  tears,  and  also  in 

trembling  under  the  apprehension  of  the  judgment 
that  did  hang  over  our  heads ;  but  all  was  not  suffi¬ 
cient  to  prevail  with  them  to  come  with  me. 

Char.  But  what  could  they  say  for  themselves  why 
they  came  not  ? 

Chr,  W  hy,  my  wife  was  afraid  of  losing  this  world, 
The  cause  why  and  my  children  were  given  to  the  fool- 
dreir didanotChgo  ish  delights  of  youth ;  so,  what  by  one 
with  him.  thing,  and  what  by  another,  they  left 

me  to  wander  in  this  manner  alone. 

Char.  But  did  you  not  with  your  vain  life  damp  all 
that  you,  by  words,  used  by  way  of  persuasion  to 
bring  them  away  with  you  ? 

Chr.  Indeed  I  cannot  commend  my  life,  for  I  am 
conscious  to  myself  of  many  failings  therein.  I  know 
also,  that  a  man,  by  his  conversation,  may  soon  over- 


PRUDENCE,  AND  CHARITY.  71 

throw  what  by  argument  or  persuasion  he  doth  labor 
to  fasten  upon  others  for  their  good.  Yet  this  I  can 
say,  I  was  very  wary  of  giving  them  occasion,  by  any 
unseemly  action,  to  make  them  averse  to  going  on 
pilgrimage.  Yea,  for  this  very  thing,  they  would 
tell  me  I  was  too  precise,  and  that  I  denied  myself  of 
things  (for  their  sakes)  in  which  they  saw  no  evil. 
Nay,  I  think  I  may  say,  that  if  what  they  saw  in 
me  did  hinder  them,  it  was  my  great  tenderness  in 
sinning  against  God,  or  of  doing  any  wrong  to  my 
neighbor. 

Chr.  Indeed,  Cain  hated  his  brother,  1  John,  3  :  12 ; 
because  his  own  works  were  evil,  and  his  brother^ 
righteous ;  and  if  thy  wife  and  children  r,  . 
ha\  e  been  offended  with  thee  for  this,  of  their  blood  if 
they  thereby  show  themselves  to  be  thcypensh- 

implacable  to  good  ;  thou  hast  delivered  thy  soul  from 
their  blood,  Ezekiel,  3 :  19. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  thus  they  sat  talking 
together  until  supper  was  ready.  So  when  they  had 
made  ready  they  sat  down  to  meat.  Now  the  table 
was  furnished  with  fat  things,  and  wine  what  Christian 
that  was  well  refined ;  and  all  their  talk  had  for  llis  supper. 
at  the  table  was  about  the  Lord  of  the  hill  j  as  namelv. 
about  what  he  had  done,  and  wherefore  Their  talk  'x 
he  did  what  he  did,  and  why  he  had  suPPer- 
builded  that  house  ;  and  by  what  they  said,  I  perceived 
that  he  had  been  a  great  warrior,  and  had  fought  with 
and  slain  him  that  had  the  power  of  death,  Hebrew,  2 : 
14,  15;  but  not  without  great  danger  to  himself,  which 
made  me  love  him  the  more. 

For,  as  they  said,  and  as  I  believe,  said  Christian,  he 
did  it  with  the  loss  of  much  blood.  But  that  which 
put  the  glory  of  grace  into  all  he  did,  was,  that  he  did 


72 


THE  WONDERS  SHOWN  TO  CHRISTIAN. 


it  out  of  pure  love  to  this  country.  And  besides,  there 
were  some  of  them  of  the  household  that  said  they  had 
been  and  spoke  with  him  since  he  did  die  on  the  cross  ; 
and  they  have  attested,  that  they  had  it  from  his  own 
lips,  that  he  is  such  a  lover  of  poor  pilgrims,  that  the 
like  is  not  to  be  found  from  the  east  to  the  west.  They, 
moreover,  gave  an  instance  of  what  they  affirmed , 
and  that  was,  he  had  stripped  himself  of  his  glory  that 
he  might  do  this  for  the  poor;  and  that  they  had 
heard  him  say  and  affirm,  that  he  would  not  dwrell  in 
the  mountain  of  Zion  alone.  They  said,  moreover, 
Christ  makes  that  he  had  made  many  pilgrims  prin- 
priuces  of  beggars.  ceSj  though  by  nature  they  were  beggars 

born,  and  their  original  had  been  the  dunghill,  1  Sa¬ 
muel,  2:8;  Psalm  113  :  7. 

Thus  they  discoursed  together  till  late  at  night ;  and 
after  they  had  committed  themselves  to  their  Lord  for 
their  protection  they  betook  themselves  to  rest.  The 
pilgrim  they  laid  in  a  large  upper  chamber,  whose 

Christian’s  bed-  window  opened  toward  the  sun-rising, 
chamber.  The  name  Qf  the  chamber  was  peaC6j 

where  he  slept  till  break  of  day,  and  then  he  awoke 
and  sang. 

Where  am  I  now  ?  Is  this  the  love  and  care 
Of  Jesus,  for  the  men  that  pilgrims  are, 

Thus  to  provide  *hat  I  should  be  forgiven, 

And  dwell  already  the  next  door  to  heaven. 

So  in  the  morning  they  all  got  up ;  and,  after  some 
more  discourse,  they  told  him  that  he  should  not  de¬ 
part  till  they  had  shown  him  the  rarities  of  that  place. 

Christian  had  And  first  they  had  him  into  the  study, 

and  what  kl'tw  where  they  showed  him  records  of  the 
there.  greatest  antiquity ;  in  which,  as  I  re¬ 

member  my  dream,  they  showed  him  the  pedigree  of 


THE  WONDERS  SHOWN  TO  CHRISTIAN.  73 

the  Lord  of  the  hill,  that  he  was  the  Son  of  the  An¬ 
cient  of  days,  and  came  by  that  eternal  generation. 
Here  also  was  more  fully  recorded  the  acts  that  he 
had  done,  and  the  names  of  many  hundreds  that  he 
had  taken  into  his  service ;  and  how  he  had  placed 
them  in  such  habitations,  that  could  neither  by  length 
of  days,  nor  decays  of  nature,  be  dissolved. 

Then  they  read  to  him  some  of  the  worthy  acts  that 
some  of  his  servants  had  done ;  as  how  they  had 
subdued  kingdoms,  wrought  righteousness,  obtained 
promises,  stopped  the  mouths  of  lions,  quenched  the 
violence  of  fire,  escaped  the  edge  of  the  sword,  out  of 
weakness  were  made  strong, -  waxed  valiant  in  fight 
and  turned  to  flight  the  armies  of  the  aliens,  Hebrews, 
11:  33,34. 

Then  they  read  again  another  part  of  the  records 
of  the  house,  where  it  was  shown  how  willing  their 
Lord  was  to  receive  into  his  favor  any,  even  any, 
though  they  in  time  past  had  offered  great  affronts  to 
his  person  and  proceedings.  Here-  also  were'  several 
other  histories  of  many  other  famous  things,  of  dll 
which  Christian  had  a  view ;  as  of  things  both  ancient 
and  modern,  together  with  prophecies  and  predictions 
of  things  that  have  their  certain  accomplishment, 
both  to  the  dread  and  amazement  of  enemies,  and  the 
comfort  and  solace  of  pilgrims. 

The  next  day  they  took  him,  and  had  him  into  the 
armory,  where  they  showed  him  all  Christian  had  into 
manner  of  furniture  which  their  Lord  the  armory* 
had  provided  for  pilgrims,  as  sword,  shield,  helmet, 
breastplate,  all-prayer,  and  shoes  that  would  not  wear 
out.  And  there  was  here  enough  of  this  to  harness 
out  as  many  men  for  the  service  of  their  Lord  ds  there 
be  stars  in  the  heaven  for  multitude. 

7 


74 


THE  WONDERS  SHOWN  TO  CHRISTIAN. 


They  also  showed  him  some  of  the  engines  with 

Christian  is  made  which  some  of  his  servants  had  done 
Sin gT  aucieut  wonderful  things.  They  showed  him 

^oses’  r°d }  the  hammer  and  nail  with 
which  Jael  slew  Sisera  ;  the  pitchers,  trumpets, 
and  lamps  too,  with  which  Gideon  put  to  flight  the 
armies  of  Midian.  Then  they  showed  him  the  ox’s 
goad  wherewith  Shamgar  slew  six  hundred  men. 
1  hey  showed  him  also  the  jaw-bone  with  which  Sam¬ 
son  did  such  mighty  feats.  They  showed  him  more¬ 
over  the  sling  and  stone  with  which  David  slew  Goliah 
of  Gath,  and  the  sword  also  with  which  their  Lord  will 
kill  the  man  of  sin,  in  the  day  that  he  shall  rise  up  to 
the  prey.  They  showed  him  besides  many  excellent 
things,  with  which  Christian  was  much  delighted. 
This  done,  they  went  to  their  rest  again. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  o°n  the  morrow  he 
got  up  to  go  forward,  but  they  desired  him  to  stay  till 
the  next  day  also ;  and  then,  said  they,  we  will,  if  the 
day  be  clear,  show  you  the  Delectable  Mountains  • 
which,  they  said,  would  yet  farther  add  to  his  comfort 
because  they  were  nearer  the  desired  haven  than  the 
place  where  at  present  he  was ;  so  he  consented  and 
stayed.  When  the  morning  was  up,  they  had  him  to 
Christian  show-  top  the  house,  and  bid  him  look 
M0;S!ectab,c  south«  So  he  did,  and  behold,  at  a  great 
distance,  he  saw  a  most  pleasant,  moun¬ 
tainous  country,  beautified  with  woods,  vineyards, 
fruits  of  all  sorts,  flowers  also,  with  springs  and  foun 
tains,  very  delectable  to  behold,  Isaiah,  33  :  16  17. 
Then  he  asked  the  name  of  the  country.  They  said 
it  was  Immanuel’s  land;  and  it  is  as  common  said 
ifiey,  as  this  hill  is,  to  and  for  all  the  pilgrims.  And 
when  thou  comest  there,  from  thence,  said  they,  thou 


CHRISTIAN  IS  ARMED  AND  PURSUES  HIS  JOURNEY.  75 

mayest  see  to  the  gate  of  the  celestial  city,  as  the  shep¬ 
herds  that  live  there  will  make  appear. 

Now  he  bethought  himself  of  setting  forward,  and 
they  were  willing  he  should.  But  first,  Christian  sets 
said  they,  let  us  go  again  into  the  ar-  forward- 
mory.  So  they  did,  and  when  he  came  there  they 
harnessed  him  from  head  to  foot  with  what  was  of 
proof,  lest  perhaps  he  should  meet  with  assaults  in  the 
way.  He  being  therefore  thus  accoutred,  walked  out 
with  his  friends  to  the  gate ;  and  there  Christian  sent 
he  asked  the  Porter  if  he  saw  any  pil-  away  armed- 

grim  pass  by.  Then  the  Porter  answered,  Yes. 

Chr.  Pray  did  you  know  him  1  said  he/ 

Port.  I  asked  his  name,  and  he  told  me  it  was 
Faithful. 

Chr.  O,  said  Christian,  I  know  him;  he  is  my  towns¬ 
man,  my  near  neighbor;  he  comes  from  the  place 
where  I  was  born.  How  far  do  you  think  he  may  be 
before  ? 

Port.  He  is  got  by  this  time  below  the  hill. 

Chr.  Well,  said  Christian,  good  Porter,  the  Lord 
be  with  thee,  and  add  to  thy  blessings  How  c  .  . 
much  increase  for  the  kindness  thou  and  °Wthe<  PoX 
hast  showed  to  me.  freet  at  Partin£- 

Then  he  began  to  go  forward ;  but  Discretion,  Piety 
Charity,  and  Prudence  would  accompany  him  down 
to  the  foot  of  the  hill.  So  they  went  on  together  re¬ 
iterating  their  former  discourses,  till  they  came  to  go 
down  the  hill.  Then  said  Christian,  As  it  was  difficult 
coming  up,  so,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  it  is  dangerous  going 
down.  Yes,  said  Prudence,  so  it  is  ;  for  it  is  a  hard 
matter  for  a  man  to  go  down  into  the  valley  of  Humi¬ 
liation,  as  thou  art  now,  and  to  catcli  no  The  valley  of  Hu- 
slip  by  the  way ;  therefore,  said  they,  miiiation. 


76 


CHRISTIAN  MEETS  APOLLYON. 


are  we  come  out  to  accompany  thee  down  the  hill.  So 
he  began  to  go  down,  but  very  warily  ;  yet  he  caught 
a  slip  or  two. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  these  good  compa¬ 
nions,  when  Christian  was  got  down  to  the  bottom  of 
the  hill,  gave  him  a  loaf  of  bread,  a  bottle  of  wine,  and 
a  cluster  of  raisins  ;  and  then  he  went  his  way. 

But  now,  in  this  valley  of  Humiliation,  poor  Chris¬ 
tian  was  hard  put  to  it ;  for  he  had  gone  but  a  little 
way  before  he  espied  a  foul  fiend  coming  over  the  field 
to  meet  him  :  his  name  is  Apollyon.  Then  did  Chris¬ 
tian  begin  to  be  afraid,  and  to  cast  in  his  mind  whether 
to  go  back,  or  to  stand  his  ground.  But  he  considered 
Christian  has  no  again  that  he  had  no  armor  for  his  back, 
armor  for  his  back.  anc[  therefore  thought  that  to  turn  the 

back  to  him  might  give  him  greater  advantage  with 
ease  to  pierce  him  with  his  darts;  therefore  he  resolved 
to  venture,  and  stand  his  ground ;  for,  thought  he,  had 
I  no  more  in  mine  eye  than  the  saving  of  my  life,  it 
would  be  the  best  way  to  stand. 

So  he  went  on,  and  Apollyon  met  him.  Now  the 
monster  was  hideous  to  behold ;  he  was  clothed  with 


scales  like  a  fish,  and  they  are  his  pride;  he  had  wings 
like  a  dragon,  and  feet  like  a  bear,  and  out  of  his  belly 
came  fire  and  smoke  ;  and  his  mouth  was  as  the  mouth 
of  a  lion.  When  he  came  up  to  Christian  he  beheld 
him  with  a  disdainful  countenance,  and  thus  began  to 
question  with  him. 

Discourse  be.  Apollyon.  Whence  come  yon,  and 
twixt  Christian  and  whither  are  you  bound? 

Apollyon.  Chr.  I  am  come  from  the  city  of  De¬ 

struction,  ,  which  is  the  place  of  all  evil,  and  I  am  go¬ 
ing  to  the  city  of  Zion. 

Apol.  By  this  I  perceive  that  thou  art  one  of  my 


apollyon’s  deceitful  discourse. 


77 


subjects ;  for  all  that  country  is  mine,  and  I  am  the 
prince  and  god  of  it.  How  is  it,  then,  that  thou  hast 
run  away  from  thy  king?  Were  it  not  that  I  hope 
that  thou  mayest  do  me  more  service,  I  would  strike 
thee  now  at  one  blow  to  the  ground. 

Chr.  I  was,  indeed,  born  in  your  dominions,  but 
your  service  was  hard,  and  your  wages  such  as  a  man 
could  not  live  on ;  for  the  wages  of  sin  is  death,  Ro¬ 
mans,  6  :  23 ;  therefore  when  I  was  come  to  years,  I 
did,  as  other  considerate  persons  do,  look  out,  if  per¬ 
haps  I  might  mend  myself. 

Apol.  There  is  no  prince  that  will  thus  lightly  lose 
his  subjects,  neither  will  I  as  yet  lose  thee;  but  since 
thou  complainest  of  thy  service  and  Apollyon’s  flat- 
wages,  be  content  to  go  back,  and  what ter^- 
our  country  will  afford  I  do  here  promise  to  give  thee. 

Chr.  But  I  have  let  myself  to  another,  even  to  the 
King  of  princes ;  and  how  can  I  with  fairness  go  back 
with  thee  ? 

Apol.  Thou  hast  done  in  this  according  to  the  pro¬ 
verb,  “  changed  a  bad  for  a  worse but  ApolIyon  undor. 
it  is  ordinary  for  those  that  have  pro-  v?lues  Christ’*  ser- 
fessed  themselves  his  servants,  after  a 
while  to  give  him  the  slip,  and  return  again  to  me.  Do 
thou  so  too,  and  all  shall  be  well. 

Chr.  I  have  given  him  my  faith,  and  sworn  my  al¬ 
legiance  to  him ;  how  then  can  I  go  back  from  this, 
and  not  be  hanged  as  a  traitor  ? 

Apol.  Thou  didst  the  same  to  me,  and  yet  I  am 
willing  to  pass  by  all,  if  now  thou  wilt  yet  turn  again 
and  go  back. 

Chr.  What  I  promised  thee  was  in  my  nonage:  and 
besides,  I  count  that  the  Prince,  under  whose  banner 
now  I  stand,  is  able  to  absolve  me,  yea,  and  to  pardon 

7* 


78 


apoljlyon’s  deceitful  discourse. 


also  what  I  did  as  to  my  compliance  with  thee.  And 
besides,  O  thou  destroying  Apollyon,  to  speak  truth, 
I  like  his  service,  his  wages,  his  servants,  his  govern¬ 
ment,  his  company,  and  country,  better  than  thine; 
therefore  leave  off  to  persuade  me  farther ;  I  am  his 
servant,  and  I  will  follow  him. 

Apol.  Consider  again,  when  thou  art  in  cool  blood, 

Apoiiyon  pleads  what  thou  art  like  to  meet  with  in  the 
of  Christians  to  way  that  thou  goest.  Thou  knowest 

fromter^Ilig  hi that  for  the  lnost  Part  his  servants  come 
his  way.  to  an  ill  end,  because  they  are  trans¬ 

gressors  against  me  and  my  ways.  How  many  of 
them  have  been  put  to  shameful  deaths !  And  besides, 
thou  countest  his  service  better  than  mine ;  whereas  he 
never  came  yet  from  the  place  where  he  is,  to  deliver 
any  that  served  him  out  of  my  hands ;  but  as  for  me, 
how  many  times,  as  all  the  world  very  well  knows, 
have  I  delivered,  either  by  power  or  fraud,  those  that 
have  faithfully  served  me,  from  him  and  his,  though 
taken  by  them !  And  so  I  will  deliver  thee. 

Chr.  His  forbearing  at  present  to  deliver  them,  is 
on  purpose  to  try  their  love,  whether  they  will  cleave 
to  him  to  the  end ;  and  as  for  the  ill  end  thou  sayest 
they  come  to,  that  is  most  glorious  in  their  account. 
For,  for  the  present  deliverance,  they  do  not  much  ex¬ 
pect  it;  for  they  stay  for  their  glory;  and  then  they 
shall  have  it,  when  their  Prince  comes  in  his,  and  the 
glory  of  the  angels. 

Apol.  Thou  hast  already  been  unfaithful  in  thy 
service  to  him;  and  how  dost  thou  think  to  receive 
wages  of  him  ? 

Chr.  Wherein,  O  Apollyon,  have  I  been  unfaithful 
to  him  ? 

Apol.  Thou  didst  faint  at  first  setting  out,  when 


! 


CONFLICT  BETWEEN  CHRISTIAN  AND  APOLLYON.  79 

thou  wast  almost  choked  in  the  Gulf  of  Apoiiyon  pleads 

Despond.  Thou  didst  attempt  Wrong  Christian’s  infirmi- 

n  ties  against  him. 

ways  to  be  rid  of  thy  burden,  whereas 

I  thou  shouldst  have  stayed  till  thy  Prince  had  taken  it 
off.  Thou  didst  sinfully  sleep,  and  lose  thy  choice 
things.  Thou  wast  also  almost  persuaded  to  go  back 
at  the  sight  of  the  lions.  And  when  thou  talkest  of 
thy  journey,  and  of  what  thou  hast  seen  and  heard, 
thou  art  inwardly  desirous  of  vain  glory  in  all  thcit 
thou  sayest  or  doest. 

Chr.  All  this  is.  true,  and  much  more  which  thou 
hast  left  out ;  but  the  Prince  whom  I  serve  and  honor 
is  merciful  and  ready  to  forgive.  But  besides,  these 
infirmities  possessed  me  in  thy  country;  for  there  I 
sucked  them  in,  and  I  have  groaned  under  them,  been 
sorry  for  them,  and  have  obtained  pardon  of  my  Prince. 

Apol.  Then  Apoiiyon  broke  out  into  a  grievous 
rage,  saying,  I  am  an  enemy  to  this  Apoiiyon,  in 
Prince ;  I  hate  his  person,  his  laws,  and  Christian, 
people ;  I  am  come  out  on  purpose  to  withstand  thee. 

Ciir.  Apoiiyon,  beware  what  you  do,  for  I  am  in 
the  king’s  highway,  the  way  of  holiness ;  therefore 
take  heed  to  yourself. 

Apol.  Then  Apoiiyon  straddled  quite  over  the 
whole  breadth  of  the  way,  and  said,  I  am  void  of  fear 
in  this  matter.  Prepare  thyself  to  die ;  for  I  swear 
by  my  infernal  den,  that  thou  shalt  go  no  farther: 
here  will  I  spill  thy  soul.  And  with  that  he  threw  a 
flaming  dart  at  his  breast ;  but  Christian  had  a  shield 
in  his  hand,  with  which  he  caught  it,  and  so  prevented 
the  danger  of  that. 

Then  did  Christian  draw,  for  he  saw  it  was  time  to 
bestir  him  ;  and  Apoiiyon  as  fast  made  at  him,  throw¬ 
ing  darts  as  thick  as  hail ;  by  the  which,  notwith- 


80  CONFLICT  BETWEEN  CHRISTIAN  AND  APOLLYON. 

standing  all  that  Christian  could  do  to  avoid  it,  Apol- 
Christian  wounded  lyon  wounded  him  in  his  head,  his 

ingffaith,’ tuldcon-  hand,  and  foot.  This  made  Chris- 
versation.  tian  give  a  little  back  :  Apollyon,  there¬ 

fore,  followed  his  work  amain,  and  Christian  again 
took  courage,  and  resisted  as  manfully  as  he  could. 
This  sore  combat  lasted  for  above  half  a  day,  even  till 
Christian  was  almost  quite  spent.  For  you  must 
know,  that  Christian,  by  reason  of  his  wounds,  must 
needs  grow  weaker  and  weaker. 

Then  Apollyon,  espying  his  opportunity,  began  to 
close  to  Christian,  wrestling  with  him,  gave  him  a 

Christian  down^S  dreadful  fal1 5  and  with  that  Christian’s 
the  ground.  sword  flew  out  of  his  hand.  Then  said 
Apollyon,  I  am  sure  of  thee  now.  And  with  that  he 
had  almost  pressed  him  to  death ;  so  that  Christian 
began  to  despair  of  life.  But,  as  God  would  have  it, 
while  Apollyon  was  fetching  his  last  blow,  thereby  to 
make  a  full  end  of  this  good  man,  Christian  nimbly 
reached  out  his  hand  for  his  sword,  and  caught  it,  say¬ 
ing,  Rejoice  not  against  me,  O  mine  enemy:  when  I 
fall,  I  shall  arise,  Micah,  7:8;  and  with  that  gave  him 

Christian’s  victory  a  deadly  thrust,  which  made  him  give 
over  Apollyon.  back,  as  one  that  had  received  his  mor¬ 
tal  wound.  Christian  perceiving  that,  made  at  him 
again,  saying,  Nay,  in  all  these  things  we  are  moie 
than  conquerors  through  Him  that  loved  us,  Romans 
8:  37.  And  with  that  Apollyon  spread  forth  his  dra¬ 
gon’s  wings,  and  sped  him  away,  that  Christian  saw 
him  no  more,  James,  4:  7. 

In  this  combat  no  man  can  imagine,  unless  he  had 

see'\  a,ld  heard  as  1  did’  wha‘  yelling 
spectator.  and  hideous  roaring  Apollyon  made  all 

the  time  of  the  fight;  he  spake  like  a  dragon  :  and  on 


Christian’s  victory. 


81 


the  other  side,  what  sighs  and  groans  burst  from 
Christian’s  heart.  I  never  saw  him  all  the  while  give 
so  much  as  one  pleasant  look,  till  he  perceived  he  had 
wounded  Apollyon  with  his  two-edged  sword ;  then, 
indeed,  he  did  smile,  and  look  upward ;  but  it  was  the 
dreadfullest  fight  that  ever  I  saw. 

So  when  the  battle  was  over,  Christian  said,  I  will 
here  give  thanks  to  Him  that  hath  . 

Christian  gives 

delivered  me  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  God  thanks  for  his 
lion;  to  him  that  did  help  me  against  dellverance- 
Apollyon.  And  so  he  did,  saying, 

Great  Beelzebub,  the  captain  of  this  fiend, 

Design’d  my  ruin  ;  therefore  to  this  end 
He  sent  him  harness’d  out,  and  he  with  rage, 

That  hellish  was,  did  fiercely  me  engage  : 

But  blessed  Michael  helped  me,  and  I, 

By  dint  of  sword,  did  quickly  make  him  fly . 

Therefore  to  Him  let  me  give  lasting  praise, 

And  thank  and  bless  his  holy  name  always. 

Then  there  came  to  him  a  hand  with  some  of  the 
leaves  of  the  tree  of  life,  the  which  Christian  took,  and 
applied  to  the  wounds  that  he  had  received  in  the  bat¬ 
tle,  and  was  healed  immediately.  He  also  sat  down  in 
that  place  to  eat  bread,  and  to  drink  of  the  bottle  that 
was  given  to  him  a  little  before;  so  being  refreshed, 
he  addressed  himself  to  his  journey,  with  his  sword 
drawn  in  his  hand  ;  for,  he  said,  I  know  chiistian  goes 
not  but  some  other  enemy  may  be  at  on.  llis  J°urney 

.  ,  -r,  .  J  J  with  his  sword 

hand.  But  lie  met  with  no  other  af-  drawn  in  ids  baud, 
front  from  Apollyon  quite  through  this  valley. 

Now  at  the  end  of  this  valley  was  another,  called 
the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death;  The  Valley  of  the 
and  Christian  must  needs  go  through  Shudow  of  Death- 
it,  because  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City  lay  through 
the  midst  of  it.  Now  this  valley  is  a  very  solitary 
place:  the  prophet  Jeremiah  thus  describes  it:  “A 


82  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH. 

wilderness,  a  land  of  deserts  and  pits,  a  land  of 
drought,  and  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  a  land  that  no 
man”  (but  a  Christian)  “  passeth  through,  and  where 
no  man  dwelt,”  Jeremiah,  2 :  6. 

Now  here  Christian  was  worse  put  to  it  than  in  his 
fight  with  Apollyon,  as  by  the  sequel  you  shall  see. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  when  Christian  was 
got  to  the  borders  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  there 

The  children  of  met  him  two  men,  children  of  them 
the  Spies  go  back,  that  brought  up  an  evil  report  of  the 

good  land,  Numbers,  13 :  32 ;  making  haste  to  go 
back ;  to  whom  Christian  spake  as  follows. 

Chr.  Whither  are  you  going  ? 

Men.  They  said,  Back,  back,  and  we  would  have 
you  do  so  too,  if  either  life  or  peace  is  prized  by  you. 

Chr.  Why,  what’s  the  matter?  said  Christian. 

Men.  Matter  ?  said  they ;  we  were  going  that  way 
as  you  are  going,  and  went  as  far  as  we  durst :  and  in¬ 
deed  we  were  almost  past  coming  back ;  for  had  we 
gone  a  little  further,  we  had  not  been  here  to  bring 
the  news  to  thee. 

Chr.  But  what  have  you  met  with?  said  Christian. 

Men.  Why,  we  were  almost  in  the  Valley  of  the 
Shadow  of  Death,  but  that  by  good  hap  we  looked  be¬ 
fore  us,  and  saw  the  danger  before  we  came  to  it; 
Psalm  44:  19;  107:  19. 

Chr.  But  what  have  you  seen?  said  Christian. 

Men.  Seen !  why  the  valley  itself,  which  is  as  dark 
as  pitch  :  we  also  saw  there  the  hobgoblins,  satyrs,  and 
dragons  of  the  pit :  we  heard  also  in  that  valley  a  con¬ 
tinual  howling  and  yelling,  as  of  a  people  under  unut¬ 
terable  misery,  who  there  sat  bound  in  affliction  and 
irons ;  and  over  that  valley  hangs  the  discouraging 
clouds  of  confusion :  death  also  doth  always  spread  his 


the  horrors  of  this  valley.  83 

wings  over  it.  In  a  word,  it  is  every  whit  dreadful,  be- 
ing  utteily  without  order,  Job,  3  :  5;  10  :  22 

Chr.  Then,  said  Christian,  I  perceive  not  yet,  by 
what  you  have  said,  but  that  this  is  my  way  to  the 
desired  haven,  Psalm  44  :  18,  19;  Jeremiah,  2  :  6. 
i  Ien.  Be  it  thy  way,  we  will  not  choose  it  for  ours, 
“'ey i  parted,  and  Christian  went  on  his  way,  but 
still  with  his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand,  for  fear  lest  he 
should  be  assaulted. 


I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  so  far  as  this  valley  reached 
there  was  on  the  right  hand  a  very  deep  ditch;  that 
ditch  is  it,  into  which  the  blind  have  led  the  blind  in 
a  ages,  and  have  both  there  miserably  perished. 
‘  gain,  behold,  on  the  left  hand  there  was  a  very  dan¬ 
gerous  quag,  into  which,  if  even  a  good  man  falls,  he 
nds  no  bottom  for  his  foot  to  stand  on :  into  that  quag 
king  David  once  did  fall,  and  had  no  doubt  therein 
een  smothered,  had  not  He  that  is  able  plucked  him 
out,  Psalm  69  :  14. 


The  pathway  was  here  also  exceeding  narrow,  and 
therefore  good  Christian  was  the  more  put  to  it;  for 
when  he  sought,  in  the  dark,  to  shun  the  ditch  on  the 
one  hand,  he  was  ready  to  tip  over  into  the  mire  on 
the  other:  also,  when  he  sought  to  escape  the  mire 
without  great  carefulness  he  would  be  ready  to  fall 
into  the  ditch.  Thus  he  went  on,  and  I  heard  him 
here  sigh  bitterly ;  for  beside  the  danger  mentioned 
above,  the  pathway  was  here  so  dark,  that  ofttimes 
when  he  lifted  up  his  foot  to  go  forward,  he  knew  not 
where,  or  upon  what  he  should  set  it  next. 

About  the  midst  of  this  valley  I  perceived  the  mouth 
of  hell  to  be,  and  it  stood  also  hard  by  the  way  side. 
Now,  thought  Christian,  what  shall  I  do?  And  ever* 
and  anon  the  flame  and  smoke  would  come  out  in  such 


84 


THE  HORRORS  OF  THIS  VALLEY. 


abundance,  with  sparks  and  hideous  noises,  (things 
that  cared  not  for  Christian’s  sword,  as  did  Apollyon 
before,)  that  he  was  forced  to  put  up  his  sword,  and 
betake  himself  to  another  weapon,  called  All-prayer, 
Eph.  6  :  18;  so  he  cried,  in  my  hearing,  O  Lord,  I  be¬ 
seech  thee,  deliver  my  soul,  Psalm  116  :  4.  Thus  he 
went  on  a  great  while,  yet  still  the  flames  would  be 
reaching  toward  him ;  also  he  heard  doleful  voices,  and 
rushings  to  and  fro,  so  that  sometimes  he  thought  he 
should  be  torn  in  pieces,  or  trodden  down  like  mire  in 
the  streets.  This  frightful  sight  was  seen,  and  these 
dreadful  noises  were  heard  by  him  for  several  miles 
together  ;  and  coming  to  a  place  where  he  thought  he 
heard  a  company  of  fiends  coming  for- 

a  s^uidfbrnaPwhiie0.  ward  to  meet  hinh lie  stopped,  and  began 
to  muse  what  he  had  best- to  do.-  Some¬ 
times  he  had  half  a  thought  to  go  back;  then  again  he 
thought  he  might  be  halfway  through  dhe  valley.  He 
remembered  also,  how  he  had  already  vanquisned 
many  a  danger ;  and  that  the  danger  of  going  back 
might  be  much  more  than  for  to  go  forward.  So  he  re¬ 
solved  to  go  on  ;  }ret  the  fiends  seemed  to  come  nearer 
and  nearer.  But  when  they  were  come  even  almost  at 
him,  he  cried  out  with  a  most  vehement  voice,  I  will 
walk  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord  God.  So  they  gave 
back,  and  came  no  farther. 

One  thing  I  would  not  let  slip.  I  took  notice  that 
now  poor  Christian  w&s  so  confounded  that  he  did  not 
know  his  own  voice;  and  thus  I  perceived  it.  Just 
when  he  was  come  over  against  the 

S;“a”.h“spaS'fnouth  of  the  burning  pit,  one  of  the 
blasphemies,  when  w}c]-e(i  ones  g0t  behind  him,  and  step- 

suggested  them  in-  ped  up  softly  to  him,  and,  whispenngly, 
to  his  mind.  suggested  many  grievous  blasphemies 


A  FELLOW  TRAVELLER  OVERHEARD — MORNING  DAWNS.  85 

to  him,  which  he  verily  thought  had  proceeded  from 
his  own  mind.  This  put  Christian  more  to  it  than 
any  thing  that  he  met  with  before,  even  to  think  that 
he  should  now  blaspheme  Him  that  he  loved  so  much 
befoie.  \  et  if  he  could  have  helped  it,  he  would  not 
have  done  it;  but  he  had  not  the  discretion  either  to 
stop  his  ears,  or  to  know  from  whence  these  blas¬ 
phemies  came. 

^hen  Christian  had  travelled  in  this  disconsolate 
condition  some  considerable  time,  he  thought  he  heard 
the  voice  of  a  man,  as  going  before  him,  saying,  Though 
I  walk  through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  I 
wiil  fear  no  evil,  for  thou  art  with  me,  Psalm  23  :  4. 5 

Then  was  he  glad,  and  that  for  these  reasons. 

h  irst,  Because  he  gathered  from  thence,  that  some 
who  feared  God  were  in  this  valley  as  well  as  himself. 

Secondly,  For  that  he  perceived  God  was  with  them, 
though  in  that  dark  and  dismal  state.  And  whv  not, 
thought  he,  with  me  ?  though  by  reason  of  the  impedi¬ 
ment  that  attends  this  place,  I  cannot  perceive  it,  Job, 

9  i  11. 

1  hirdly,  For  that  he  hoped  (could  he  overtake  them) 
to  have  company  by  and  by.  So  he  went  on,  and  called 
to  him  that  was  before ;  but  he  knew  not  what  to  answer, 
for  that  he  also  thought  himself  to  be  alone.  And  by 
and  by  the  day  broke :  then  said  Chris¬ 
tian,  “He  hath  turned  the  shadow  of  break 5 *£?  at 
death  into  the  morning,”  Amos,  5  :  8. 

Now  morning  being  come,  he  looked  back,  not  out 
of  desire  to  return,  but  to  see,  by  the  light  of  the  dav 
what  hazards  he  had  gone  through  in  the  dark  So 
he  saw  more  perfectly  the  ditch  that  was  on  the  one 
hanu,  and  the  quag  that  was  on  the  other;  also  how 
narrow  the  way  was  which  led  betwixt  them  both. 

8 


86  THE  GIANTS,  POPE  AND  PAGAN,  OF  THE  VALLEY. 

Also  now  he  saw  the  hobgoblins,  and  satyrs,  and  dra¬ 
gons  of  the  pit,  blit  all  afar  off;  for  after  break  of  day 
they  came  not  nigh,  yet  they  were  discovered  to  him, 
according  to  that  which  is  written  “  He  discovered 
deep  things  out  of  darkness,  and  bringeth  out  to  light 
the  shadow  of  death,55  Job,  12  :  22. 

Now  was  Christian  much  affected  with  this  delive¬ 
rance  from  all  the  dangers  of  his  solitary  way;  which 
dangers,  though  he  feared  them  much  before,  yet  he 
saw  them  more  clearly  now,  because  the  light  of  the 
day  made  them  conspicuous  to  him.  And  about  this 
time  the  sun  was  rising,  and  this  was  another  mercy 
to  Christian ;  for  you  must  note,  that  though  the  first 
part  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  was  dange- 

The  second  part  rous>  yet  this  sec°nd  part,  which  he  was 

of  this  valley  very  yet  to  go,  was,  if  possible,  far  more  dange- 
dangerous.  r  r  h  ,  ,  ° 

rous ;  lor,  from  the  place  where  he  now 
stood,  even  to  the  end  of  the  valley,  the  way  was  all 
along  set  so  full  of  snares,  traps,  gins,  and  nets  here, 
and  so  full  of  pits,  pitfalls,  deep  holes,  and  shelvings 
down  there,  that  had  it  now  been  dark,  as  it  was  when 
he  came  the  first  part  of  the  way,  had  he  had  a  thou¬ 
sand  souls,  they  had  in  reason  been  cast  away ;  but,  as 
I  said,  just  now  the  sun  was  rising.  Then  said  he, 
“  His  candle  shineth  on  my  head,  and  by  his  light  I  go 
through  darkness,55  Job,  29  :  3. 

In  this  light,  therefore,  he  came  to  the  end  of  the 
valley.  Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  at  the  end  of 
the  valley  lay  blood,  bones,  ashes,  and  mangled  bodies 
of  men,  even  of  pilgrims  that  had  gone  this  way  for¬ 
merly  ;  and  while  I  was  musing  what  should  be  the  rea¬ 
son,  I  espied  a  little  before  me  a  cave,  where  two 
giants,  Pope  and  Pagan,  dwelt  in  old  time;  by  whose 
power  and  tyranny  the  men,  whose  bones,  blood,  ashes, 


SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE — CHRISTIAN  SEES  FAITHFUL.  87 

&c.  lay  there,  were  cruelly  put  to  death.  But  by  this 
place  Christian  went  without  much  danger,  whereat  I 
somewhat  wondered ;  but  I  have  learnt  since,  that  Pa¬ 
gan  has  been  dead  many  a  day ;  and  as  for  the  other, 
though  he  be  yet  alive,  he  is,  by  reason  of  age,  and  also 
of  the  many  shrewd  brushes  that  he  met  with  in  his 
younger  days,  grown  so  crazy  and  stiff  in  his  joints, 
that  he  can  now  do  little  more  than  sit  in  his  cave’s 
mouth,  grinning  at  pilgrims  as  they  go  by,  and  biting 
his  nails  because  he  cannot  come  at  them. 

So  I  saw  that  Christian  went  on  his  way  •  yet,  at  the 
sight  of  the  old  man  that  sat  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave, 
he  could  not  tell  what  to  think,  especially  because  he 
spoke  to  him,  though  he  could  not  go  after  him,  say- 
ing>  ^  on  wiH  never  mend  till  more  of  you  be  burned. 
But  he  held  his  peace,  and  set  a  good  face  on  it,  and 
so  went  by,  and  catched  no  hurt.  Then  sang  Christian . 

Oh  world  of  wonders,  (I  can  say  no  less,) 

That  I  should  be  preserved  in  that  distress 
That  I  have  met  with  here !  O  blessed  be 
I  hat  hand  that  from  it  hath  deliver’d  me  ! 

Dangers  in  darkness,  devils,  hell,  and  sin, 

Did  compass  me,  while  I  this  vale  was  in ; 

\ea,  snares,  and  pits,  and  traps,  and  nets  did  he 

My  path  about,  that  wortldess,  silly  I 

Might  have  been  catch’d,  entangled,  and  cast  down . 

But  since  I  live,  let  Jesus  wear  the  crown. 

Now  as  Christian  went  on  his  way,  he  came  to  a 
little  ascent,  which  was  cast  up  on  purpose  that  pil¬ 
grims  might  see  before  them;  up  there,  therefore 
Christian  went;  and  looking  forward,  he  saw  Faithful 
before  him  upon  his  journey.  Then  said  Christian 
aloud,  Ho,  ho;  so-ho;  stay,  and  I  will  be  your  com¬ 
panion.  At  that  Faithful  looked  behind  him ;  to  whom 
Christian  cried  again,  Stay,  stay,  till  I  come  up  to  you. 
But  Faithful  answered,  No,  I  am  upon  my  life,  and 
the  avenger  of  blood  is  behind  me. 


88 


CHRISTIAN  OVERTAKES  FAITHFUL. 


At  this  Christian  was  somewhat  moved,  and  put- 
Christian  over-  ting  to  all  his  strength,  he  quickly  got 
takes  Faithful.  lip  wph  Faithful,  and  did  also  overrun 

him  ■  so  the  last  was  first.  Then  did  Christian  vain- 
gloriously  smile,  because  he  had  gotten  the  start  of  his 
brother  ;  but  not  taking  good  heed  to  his  feet,  he  sud¬ 
denly  stumbled  and  fell,  and  could  not  rise  again  until 
Faithful  came  up  to  help  him. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  they  went  very  lovingly 

Christian’  011  t0&et,her>  an(l  had  sweet  discourse 
makes  Faithful  and  of  all  things  that  had  happened  to  them 
gether!°vingly  l°'  in  their  pilgrimage  ;  and  thus  Christian 
began. 


Chr.  My  honored  and  well-beloved  brother  Faith¬ 
ful,  I  mn  glad  that  I  have  overtaken  you,  and  that 
God  has  so  tempered  our  spirits  that  we  can  walk  as 
companions  in  this  so  pleasant  a  path. 

Faith.  I  had  thought,  dear  friend,  to  have  had  your 
company  quite  from  our  town  ;  but  you  did  get  the 
start  of  me ;  wherefore  I  was  forced  to  come  thus 
much  of  the  way  alone. 

Chr.  How  long  did  you  stay  in  the  City  of  Destruc¬ 
tion  before  you  set  out  after  me  on  your  pilgrimage  ? 

Faith.  Till  I  could  stay  no  longer  ;  for  there  was 

Their  talk  about  Sreat  talk  Presently  after  you  were 
the  country  from  gone  out,  that  our  city  would,  in  a 
whence  thej  came.  sjj0rt  tjmej  with  fire  fr0m  heaven  be 

burnt  down  to  the  ground. 

Chr.  What !  did  your  neighbors  talk  so  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  it  was  for  a  while  in  every  body’s  mouth. 

Chr.  What !  and  did  no  more  of  them  but  you  come 


out  to  escape  the  danger  ? 

Faith.  Though  there  was,  as  I  said,  a  great  talk 
thereabout,  yet  I  do  not  think  they  did  firmly  believe 


89 


DISCOURSE  OF  CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL. 

it.  For  ill  the  heat  of  the  discourse,  I  heard  some  of 
them  deridingly  speak  of  you,  and  of  your  desperate 
journey j  for  so  they  called  this  your  pilgrimage.  But 
I  did  believe,  and  do  still,  that  the  end  of  our  city  will 
be  with  fire  and  brimstone  from  above ;  and  therefore 
I  have  made  my  escape. 

Chr.  Did  you  hear  no  talk  of  neighbor  Pliable  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  Christian,  I  heard  that  he  followed  you 
till  he  came  to  the  Slough  of  Despond,  where,  as  some 
said,  he  fell  in ;  but  he  would  not  be  known  to  have  so 

done  ;  but  I  am  sure  he  was  soundly  bedabbled  with 
that  kind  of  dirt. 

Chr.  And  what  said  the  neighbors  to  him  ? 

Faith.  He  hath,  since  his  going  back,  been  had 
greatly  in  derision,  and  that  among  all 
sorts  of  people :  some  do  mock  and  des-  .c?Zted"ofwh." 
pise  him,  and  scarce  will  any  set  him  he  80t  home- 

on  work.  He  is  now  seven  times  worse  than  if  he 
had  never  gone  out  of  the  city. 

Chr.  But  why  should  they  be  so  set  against  him 
since  they  also  despise  the  way  that  he  forsook  ? 

Faith.  O,  they  say,  Hang  him ;  he  is  a  turncoat  • 
he  was  not  true  to  his  profession  !  I  think  God  has 
stirred  up  even  His  enemies  to  hiss  at  him,  and  make 
him  a  proverb,  because  he  hath  forsaken  the  way  Jere¬ 
miah,  29  :  18,  19. 

ChR*  Had  you  no  talk  with  him  before  you  came 

Faith.  I  met  him  once  in  the  streets,  but  he  leered 
away  on  the  other  side,  as  one  ashamed  of  what  he 
had  done  ;  so  I  spake  not  to  him. 

Chr.  Well,  at  my  first  setting  out  I  had  hopes  of 
that  man  ;  but  now  I  fear  he  will  perish  in  the  over- 
tr  row  of  the  city.  For  it  has  happened  to  him  accord- 

g* 


90  DISCOURSE  OF  CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL. 

ing  to  the  true  proverb,  “The  dog  is  turned  to  his 
vomit  again,  and  the  sow  that  was  washed  to  her  wal¬ 
lowing  in  the  mire,  2  Peter,  2  :  22. 

Faith.  These  are  my  fears  of  him  too  ;  but  who  can 
hinder  that  which  will  be  ? 

Chr.  Well,  neighbor  Faithful,  said  Christian,  let  us 
leave  him,  and  talk  of  things  that  more  immediately 
concern  ourselves.  Tell  me  now  what  you  have  met 
with  in  the  way  as  you  came ;  for  I  know  you  have 
met  with  some  things,  or  else  it  may  be  writ  for  a 
wonder. 

Faith.  I  escaped  the  slough  that  I  perceive  you 
fell  into,  and  got  up  to  the  gate  without  that  danger ; 

Faithful  assault-  only  I  met  with  one  whose  name 
ed  by  Wanton.  was  Wanton,  who  had  like  to  have 

done  me  mischief. 

Chr.  It  was  well  you  escaped  her  net ;  Joseph  was 
hard  put  to  it  by  her,  and  he  escaped  her  as  you  did  ; 
but  it  had  like  to  have  cost  him  his  life,  Gen.  39  : 
11 — 13.  But  what  did  she  do  to  you  ? 

Faith.  You  cannot  think  (but  that  you  know  some¬ 
thing)  what  a  flattering  tongue  she  had ;  she  lay  at 
me  hard  to  turn  aside  with  her,  promising  me  all  man¬ 
ner  of  content. 

Chr.  Nay,  she  did  not  promise  you  the  content  of 
a  good  conscience. 

Faith.  You  know  that  I  mean  all  carnal  and  fleshly 
content. 

Chr.  Thank  God  you  have  escaped  her ;  the  ab¬ 
horred  of  the  Lord  shall  fall  into  her  ditch,  Prov.  22 :  14. 

Faith.  Nay,  I  know  not  whether  I  did  wholly  es¬ 
cape  her  or  no. 

Chr.  Why,  I  trow,  you  did  not  consent  to  her 
desires  ? 


DISCOURSE  OF  CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL.  91 

Faith.  No,  not  to  defile  myself;  for  I  remembered 
an  old  writing  that  I  had  seen,  which  said,  “  Her  steps, 
take  hold  on  hell,”  Prov.  5:5.  So  I  shut  mine  eyes 
because  I  would  not  be  bewitched  with  her  looks,  Job, 
31 .  Then  she  railed  on  me,  and  I  went  my  way. 

Chr.  Did  you  meet  with  no  other  assault  as  you 
came  ? 

Faith.  When  I  came  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  call¬ 
ed  Difficulty,  I  met  with  a  very  aged 
man,  who  asked  me  what  I  was,  and  iHe.vyas  assaulte<i 
whither  bound.  I  told  him  that  I  was  *V  UU  the  first' 
a  pilgrim,  going  to  the  Celestial  City.  Then  said  the 
old  man,  Thou  lookest  like  an  honest  fellow ;  wilt 
thou  be  content  to  dwell  with  me,  for  the  wages  that  I 
shall  give  thee?  Then  I  asked  him  his  name,  and 
where  he  dwelt.  He  said  his  name  was  Adam  the 
first,  and  that  he  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Deceit,  Eph. 
4:  22.  I  asked  him  then,  what  was  his  work,  and 
what  the  wages  that  he  would  give.  He  told  me,  that 
his  work  was  many  delights  ;  and  his  wages,  that  I 
should  be  his  heir  at  last.  I  further  asked  him,  what 
house  he  kept,  and  what  other  servants  he  had.  So 
he  told  me,  that  his  house  was  maintained  with  all 
the  dainties  of  the  world,  and  that  his  servants  were 
those  of  his  own  begetting.  Then  I  asked  him  how 
many  children  he  had.  He  said  that  he  had  but  three 
daughters,  the  Lust  of  the  Flesh,  the  Lust  of  the  Eyes, 
and  the  Pride  of  Life,  1  John,  2  :  16;  and  that  I  should 
mairy  them,  if  I  would.  Then  I  asked,  how  long 
time  he  would  have  me  live  with  him  ;  and  hd  told 
me,  as  long  as  he  lived  himself. 

Chr.  Well,  and  what  conclusion  came  the  old  man 
and  you  to  at  last  ? 

Faith.  Why,  at  first  I  found  myself  somewhat  in- 


92  DISCOURSE  OF  CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL. 

clinable  to  go  with  the  man,  for  I  thought  he  spake 
very  fair ;  but  looking  in  his  forehead,  as  I  talked 
with  him,  I  saw  there  ^written,  “  Put  off  the  old  man 
with  his  deeds.” 

Chr.  And  how  then  ? 

Faith.  Then  it  came  burning  hot  into  my  mina, 
whatever  he  said,  and  however  he  flattered,  when  he 
got  me  home  to  his  house  he  would  sell  me  for  a 
slave.  So  I  bid  him  forbear  to  talk,  for  I  would  not 
come  near  the  door  of  his  house.  Then  he  reviled 
me,  and  told  me  he  would  send  such  a  one  after 
me  that  should  make'  my  way  bitter  to  my  soul.  So  I 
turned  to  go  away  from  him ;  but  just  as  I  turned  my¬ 
self  to  go  thence  I  felt  him  take  hold  of  my  flesh,  and 
give  me  such  a  deadly  twitch  back,  that  I  thought  he 
had  pulled  part  of  me  after  himself :  this  made  me 
cry,  “  Oh  wretched  man,”  Rom.  7 :  24.  So  I  went 
on  my  way  up  the  hill. 

Now  when  I  had  got  about  half  way  up,  I  looked  be¬ 
hind  me,  and  saw  one  coming  after  me,  swift  as  the 
wind  ;  so  he  overtook  me  just  about  the  place  where 
the  settle  stands. 

Chr.  Just  there,  said  Christian,  did  I  sit  down  to 
rest  me ;  but  being  overcome  with  sleep,  I  there  lost 
this  roll  out  of  my  bosom. 

Faith.  But,  good  brother,  hear  me  out.  So  soon  as 
the  man  overtook  me,  he  was  but  a  word  and  a  blow ; 
for  down  he  knocked  me,  and  laid  me  for  dead.  But 
when  I  was  a  little  come  to  myself  again,  I  asked  him 
wherefore  he  served  me  so.  He  said,  because  of  my 
secret  inclining  to  Adam  the  first.  And  with  that  he 
struck  me  another  deadly  blow  on  the  breast,  and 
beat  me  down  backward ;  so  I  lay  at  his  foot  as  dead 
as  before.  So  when  I  came  to  myself  again,  I  cried 


DISCOURSE  OF  CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL.  93 

him  mercy :  but  he  said,  I  know  not  how  to  show 
mercy ;  and  with  that  he  knocked,  me  down  again. 
Ho  had  doubtless  made  an  end  of  me,  but  that  one 
came  by,  and  bid  him  forbear. 

Chr.  Who  was  that  that  bid  him  forbear  ? 

Faith.  I  did  not  know  him  at  first ;  but  as  he  went 
by,  I  perceived  the  holes  in  his  hands  and  his  side  : 
then  I  concluded  that  he  was  our  Lord.  So  I  went 
up  the  hill. 

Chr.  That  man  that  overtook  you  was  Moses.  He 
spareth  none;  neither  knoweth  he  how  to  show  mercy 
to  those  that  transgress  his  law. 

Faith.  I  know  it  very  well ;  it  was  not  the  first  time 
that  he  has  met  with  me.  ’Twas  he  that  came  to  me 
when  I  dwelt  securely  at  home,  and  that  told  me  he 
would  burn  my  house  over  my  head  if  I  stayed  there. 

Chr.  But  did  not  you  see  the  house  that  stood 
there,  on  the  top  of  that  hill  on  the  side  of  which 
Moses  met  you  ?  ' 

Faith.  \  es,  and  the  lions  too,  before  I  came  at  it. 
But  for  the  lions,  I  think  they  were  asleep,  for  it  was 
about  noon ;  and  because  I  had  so  much  of  the  day 
before  me,  I  passed  by  the  Porter,  and  came  down 
the  hill. 

Chr.  lie  told  me,  indeed,  that  he  saw  you  go  by ; 
but  I  wish  that  you  had  called  at  the  house,  for  they 
would  have  showed  you  so  many  rarities,  that  you 
would  scarce  have  forgot  them  to  the  day  of  your 
death.  But  pray  tell  me,  did  you  meet  nobody  in  the 
Valley  of  Humility  ? 

Faith.  Yes,  I  met  with  one  Discontent,  who  would 
willingly  have  persuaded  me  to  go  back  FaithfuI  assault_ 
again  with  him:  his  reason  was,  for  Rd ky Discontent, 
that  the  valley  was  altogether  without  honor.  He 


94 


DISCOURSE  OF  CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL. 

told  me,  moreover,  that  to  go  there  was  the  way  to 
disoblige  all  my  friends,  as  Pride,  Arrogancy,  Self- 
Conceit,  Worldly  Glory,  with  others,  who  he  knew, 
as  he  said,  would  be  very  much  offended  if  I  made 
such  a  fool  of  myself  as  to  wade  through  this  valley. 

Chr.  Well,  and  how  did  you  answer  him  ? 

Faith.  I  told  him,  that  although  all  these  that  he 

Faithful’s  answer  named  might  claim  a  kindred  of  me,  and 
to  Discontent.  that  rightly,  (for  indeed  they  were  my 

relations  according  to  the  flesh,)  yet  since  I  became  a 
pilgrim  they  have  disowned  me,  and  I  also  have  re¬ 
jected  them  ;  and  therefore  they  were  to  me  now  no 
more  than  if  they  had  never  been  of  my  lineage.  I 
told  him,  moreover,  that  as  to  this  valley,  he  had  quite 
misrepresented  the  thing ;  for  before  honor  is  humili¬ 
ty,  and  a  haughty  spirit  before  a  fall.  Therefore,  said 
I,  I  had  rather  go  through  this  valley  to  the  honor  that 
was  so  accounted  by  the  wisest,  than  choose  that  which 
he  esteemed  most  worth  our  affections. 

Chr.  Met  you  with  nothing  else  in  that  valley? 

Faith.  Yes,  I  met  with  Shame;  but  of  all  the  men 

He  is  assaulted  that  I  met  with  on  my  pilgrimage,  he  I 
with  Shame.  think,  bears  the  wrong  name.  The 

other  would  be  said  nay,  after  a  little  argumentation, 
and  somewhat  else ;  but  this  bold-faced  Shame  would 
never  have  done. 

Chr.  Why,  what  did  he  say  to  you  ? 

Faith.  What  ?  why  he  objected  against  religion 
itself.  He  said  it  was  a  pitiful,  low,  sneaking  busi¬ 
ness  for  a  man  to  mind  religion.  He  said,  that  a  tender 
conscience  was  an  unmanly  thing ;  and  that  for  a 
man  to  watch  over  his  words  and  ways,  so  as  to  tie 
up  himself  from  that  hectoring  liberty  that  the  brave 
spirits  of  the  times  accustom  themselves  unto,  would 


DISCOURSE  OF  CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL.  95 

make  him  the  ridicule  of  the  times.  He  objected  also, 
that  but  few  of  the  mighty,  rich,  or  wise,  were  ever  of 
my  opinion  j  nor  any  of  them  neither,  before  they 
were  persuaded  to  be  fools,  and  to  be  of  a  voluntary 
fondness  to  venture  the  loss  of  all,  for  nobody  else 
knows  what,  1  Cor.  1:  26;  3:  18;  Phil.  3:  7- 9- 

O  ill,  7  :  48.  He,  moreover,  objected  the  base  and  low 
estate  and  condition  of  those  that  were  chiefly  the  pil¬ 
grims  of  the  times  in  which  they  lived  ;  also  their  ig¬ 
norance  and  want  of  understanding  in  all  natural 
science.  Yea,  he  did  hold  me  to  it  at  that  rate  also 
about  a  great  many  more  things  than  here  I  relate  • 
as  that  it  was  a  shame  to  sit  whining  and  mourning 
under  a  sermon,  and  a  shame  to  come  sighing  and 
groaning  home  j  that  it  was  a  shame  to  ask  my  neigh¬ 
bor  forgiveness  for  my  petty  faults,  or  to  make  resti¬ 
tution  where  I  have  taken  from  any.  He  said  also, 
hat  religion  made  a  man  grow  strange  to  the  great 
because  of  a  few  vices,  (which  he  called  by  finer 
names,)  and  made  him  own  and  respect  the  base  be¬ 
cause  of  the  same  religious  fraternity:  and  is  not  this 
Said  he,  a  shame  ?  ’ 

Chr.  And  what  did  you  say  to  him  ? 

Faith.  Say?  I  could  not  tell  what  to  say  at  first, 
i  ea,  he  put  me  so  to  it,  that  my  blood  came  up  in  my 
face ;  even  this  Shame  fetched  it  up,  and  had  almost 

at  laSt  1  be^an  t0  consider, 
that  that  which  is  highly  esteemed  among  men,  is  had 

111  aboi™natl°n  with  God,  Luke  16 :  15.  And  I  thought 
again,  This  Shame  tells  me  what  men  are:  but°he 
te  Is  me  nothing  what  God,  or  the  word  of  God  is 
And  1  thought,  moreover,  that  at  the  day  of  doom’wc 
shall  not  be  doomed  to  death  or  life,  according  to  the 
hectoring  spirits  of  the  world,  but  according  to  the 


96  DISCOURSE  OF  CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL. 

wisdom  and  law  of  the  Highest.  Therefore,  thought 
I,  what  God  says  is  best,  is  best,  though  all  the  men 
in  the  world  are  against  it.  Seeing,  then,  that  God 
prefers  his  religion  ;  seeing  God  prefers  a  tender  con¬ 
science  ;  seeing  they  that  make  themselves  fools  for 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  are  wisest,  and  that  the  poor 
man  that  loveth  Christ  is  richer  than  the  greatest  man 
in  the  world  that  hates  him  ;  Shame,  depart,  thou  art 
an  enemy  to  my  salvation.  Shall  I  entertain  thee 
against  my  sovereign  Lord  ?  how  then  shall  I  look 
Him  in  the  face  at  his  coming?  Mark  8  :  38.  Should 
I  now  be  ashamed  of  His  ways  and  servants,  how  can 
I  expect  the  blessing?  But  indeed  this  Shame  was  a 
bold  villain ;  I  could  scarcely  shake  him  out  of  my 
company  ;  yea,  he  would  be  haunting  of  me,  and  con¬ 
tinually  whispering  me  in  the  ear  with  some  one  or 
other  of  the  infirmities  that  attend  religion.  But  at 
last  I  told  him  ’twas  but  in  vain  to  attempt  farther  in 
this  business ;  for  those  things  that  he  disdained,  in 
those  did  I  see  most  glory  :  and  so  at  last  I  got  past 
this  importunate  one.  And  when  I  had  shaken  him 
off,  then  I  began  to  sing : 

The  trials  that  those  men  do  meet  withal!, 

That  are  obedient  to  the  heavenly  call, 

Are  manifold,  and  suited  the  flesh, 

And  come,  and  come,  and  come  again  afresh; 

That  now,  or  some  time  else,  we  by  them  may 
Be  taken,  overcome,  and  cast  away. 

O  let  the  pilgrims,  let  the  pilgrims  then, 

Be  vigilant,  and  quit  themselves  like  men. 

Chr.  I  am  glad,  my  brother,  that  thou  didst  with¬ 
stand  this  villain  so  bravely  ;  for  of  all,  as  thou  sayest, 
I  think  he  has  the  wrong  name ;  for  he  is  so  bold  as  to 
follow  us  in  the  streets,  and  to  attempt  to  put  us  to 
shame  before  all  men  ;  that  is,  to  make  us  ashamed  of 


DISCOURSE  OF  CHRISTIAN  AND  FAITHFUL.  9? 

tnat  which  is  good.  But  if  he  was  not  himself  auda¬ 
cious,  lie  would  never  attempt  to  do  as  he  does.  But 
let  us  still  resist  him ;  for  notwithstanding  all  his  bra¬ 
vadoes,  he  promoteth  the  fool,  and  none  else.  “  The 
wise  shall  inherit  glory,”  said  Solomon ;  “  but  shame 
shall  be  the  promotion  of  fools.”  Prov.  3  :  35. 

Faith.  I  think  we  must  cry  to  Him  for  help  against 
Shame,  that  would  have  us  to  be  valiant  for  truth  upon 
the  earth. 

Chr.  You  say  true;  but  did  you  meet  nobody  else 
in  that  valley  ? 

Faith.  No,  not  I ;  for  I  had  sunshine  all  the  rest  of 
the  way  through  that,  and  also  through  the  Valley  of 
the  Shadow  of  Death. 

Chr.  ’Twas  well  for  you ;  I  am  sure  it  fared  far 
otherwise  with  me.  I  had  for  a  long  season,  as  soon 
almost  as  I  entered  into  that  valley,  a  dreadful  combat 
with  that  foul  fiend  Apollyon;  yea,  I  thought  verily 
he  would  have  killed  me,  especially  when  he  got  me 
down,  and  crushed  me  under  him,  as  if  he  woidd  have 
crushed  me  to  pieces ;  for  as  he  threw  me,  my  sword 
flew  out  of  my  hand ;  nay,  he  told  me  he  was  sure  of 
me  5  but  I  cried  to  Cod,  and  he  heard  me,  and  delivered 
me  out  of  all  my  troubles.  Then  I  entered  into  the 
Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  had  no  light  for 
almost  half  the  way  through  it.  I  thought  I  should 
have  been  killed  there  over  and  over ;  but  at  last  day 
brake,  and  the  sun  rose,  and  I  went  through  that  which 
was  behind  with  far  more  ease  and  quiet. 

^  Moieover  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  as  they  went  on. 
Faithful,  as  he  chanced  to  look  on  one  side,  saw  a  man 
whose  name  was  Talkative,  walking  at  a  distance  be¬ 
side  them ;  for  in  this  place  there  was  room  enough 
for  them  all  to  walk.  He  was  a  tall  man,  and  sorne- 

9 


98 


DISCOURSE  OF  TALKATIVE  AND  FAITHFUL. 


Talkative  de-  thing  more  comely  at  a  distance  than  at 
~cnbed‘  hand.  To  this  man  Faithful  addressed 

himself  in  this  manner. 

Faith.  Friend,  whither  away?  Are  you  going  to 
the  heavenly  country  ? 

Talk.  I  am  going  to  that  same  place. 

Faith.  That  is  well ;  then  I  hope  we  may  have  your 
good  company  ? 

Talk.  With  a  very  good  will,  will  I  be  your  com¬ 
panion. 


Faithful  and  Faith.  Come  on,  then,  and  let  us  go 

SkaditcourSeen.ter  t0»etlier>  and  let  us  sPend  °ur  time  in 
discoursing  of  things  that  are  profitable. 
Talk.  To  talk  of  things  that  are  good,  to  me  is  very 
acceptable,  with  you,  or  with  any  other ;  and  I  am  glad 
that  I  have  met  with  those  that  incline  to  so  good  a 
Talkative’s  work ;  for,  to  speak  the  truth,  there  are 

discourses'  ***  bllt  feVV  Wh°  Cai'e  tllUS  t0  SPend  their 
time  as  they  are  in  their  travels,  but 
choose  much  rather  to  be  speaking  of  things  to  no 
profit ;  and  this  hath  been  a  trouble  to  me. 

Faith.  This  is,  indeed,  a  thing  to  be  lamented ;  for 
what  thing  so  worthy  of  the  use  of  the  tongue  and 
mouth  of  men  on  earth,  as  are  the  things  of  the  God 
of  heaven  ? 


Talk.  I  like  you  wonderful  well,  for  your  saying  is 
full  of  conviction ;  and  I  will  add,  What  thing  so  plea¬ 
sant,  and  what  so  profitable,  as  to  talk  of  the  things  of 
God  ?  What  things  so  pleasant  ?  that  is,  if  a  man  hath 
any  delight  in  things  that  are  wonderful.  For  instance : 
if  a  man  doth  delight  to  talk  of  the  history,  or  the 
mystery  of  things;  or  if  a  man  doth  love  to  talk  of 
miracles,  wonders,  or  signs,  where  shall  he  find  things 
recorded  so  delightful,  and  so  sweetly  penned,  as  in 
the  holy  scripture  ? 


DISCOURSE  OF  TALKATIVE  AND  FAITHFUL.  99 

I  aith.  That  is  true ;  but  to  be  profited  by  such  things 
in  our  talk,  should  be  our  chief  design. 

Talk.  That’s  it  that  I  said ;  for  to  talk  of  such  things 
is  most  profitable ;  for  by  so  doing,  a  Talkative',  fine 
man  may  get  knowledge  of  many  things ;  di!iC0U1!ie- 
as  of  the  vanity  of  earthly  things,  and  the  benefit  of 
things  above.  Thus  in  general ;  but  more  particularly, 
by  this  a  man  may  learn  the  necessity  of  the  new  birth, 
the  insufficiency  of  our  works,  the  need  of  Christ’s 
righteousness,  &c.  Besides,  by  this  a  man  may  learn 
what  it  is  to  repent,  to  believe,  to  pray,  to  suffer,  or  the 
like :  by  this,  also,  a  man  may  learn  what  are  the  great 
promises  and  consolations  of  the  gospel,  to  his  own 
comfort.  Farther,  by  this  a  man  may  learn  to  refute 
false  opinions,  to  vindicate  the  truth,  and  also  to  in¬ 
struct  the  ignorant. 

Faith.  All  this  is  true;  and  glad  am  I  to  hear  these 
things  from  you. 

Talk.  Alas!  the  want  of  this  is  the  cause  that  so 
few'  understand  the  need  of  faith,  and  the  necessity  of 
a  work  of  grace  in  their  soul,  in  order  to  eternal  life ; 
but  ignorantly  live  in  the  works  of  the  law,  by  which 
a  man  can  by  no  means  obtain  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

Faith.  But,  by  your  leave,  heavenly  knowledge  of 
these  is  the  gift  of  God;  no  man  attaineth  to  them  by 
human  industry,  or  only  by  the  talk  of  them. 

Talk.  All  this  I  know  very  well,  for  a  man  can 
receive  nothing,  except  it  be  given  him  0ii  brave  Taik- 
from  heaven ;  all  is  of  grace,  not  of ative- 
works.  I  could  give  you  a  hundred  scriptures  for  the 
confirmation  of  this. 

Faith.  Well,  then,  said  Faithful,  what  is  that  one 
thing  that  we  shall  at  this  time  found  our  discourse 
upon  ? 


100  CHRISTIAN  DESCRIBES  TALKATIVE’S  CHARACTER. 

Talk.  What  you  will.  I  will  talk  of  things  hea- 
Oh  brave  Talk-  venly,  or  things  earthly ;  things  moral, 
ative!  or  things  evangelical ;  things  sacred, 

or  things  profane  ;  things  past,  or  things  to  come, 
things  foreign,  or  things  at  home  ;  things  more  essen¬ 
tial,  or  things  circumstantial ;  provided  that  all  be 
done  to  our  profit. 

Faith.  Now  did  Faithful  begin  to  wonder ;  and 
Faithful  beguil-  stepping  to  Christian,  (for  he  walked 
ed  by  Talkative.  aq  this  while  by  himself,)he  said  to 

him,  but  softy,  What  a  brave  companion  have  we  got? 
Surely  this  man  will  make  a  very  excellent  pilgrim. 

Chr.  At  this  Christian  modestly 

Christian  makes  smiled,  and  said,  This  man,  with  whom 
a  discovery  of  5  ,  ...  ,  ..  ... 

Talkative,  telling  you  are  so  taken,  will  beguile  with 
Faithfu1  who  he  tongue  of  his  twenty  of  them  that 

know  him  not. 

Faith.  Do  you  know  him,  then  ? 

Chr.  Know  him?  Yes,  better  than  he  knows  himself. 

Faith.  Pray  what  is  he  ? 

Chr.  His  name  is  Talkative:  he  dwelleth  in  our 
town.  I  wonder  that  you  should  be  a  stranger  to 
him ;  only  I  consider  that  our  town  is  large. 

Faith.  Whose  son  is  he  ?  And  whereabout  doth  he 
dwell  ? 

Chr.  He  is  the  son  of  one  Say-well.  He  dwelt  in 
Prating-Row ;  and  lie  is  known  to  all  that  are  ac¬ 
quainted  with  him  by  the  name  of  Talkative,  of  Pra¬ 
ting-Row  ;  and,  notwithstanding  his  fine  tongue,  he  is 
but  a  sorry  fellow. 

Faith.  Well,  he  seems  to  be  a  very  pretty  man. 

Chr.  That  is,  to  them  that  have  not  a  thorough  ac¬ 
quaintance  with  him,  for  he  is  best  abroad ;  near  home 
he  is  ugly  enough.  Your  saying  that  he  is  a  pretty 


CHRISTIAN  DESCRIBES  TALKATIVE’S  CHARACTER.  10) 

man,  brings  to  my  mind  what  I  have  observed  in  the 
work  of  a  painter,  whose  pictures  show  best  at  a  dis¬ 
tance,  but  very  near  more  unpleasing. 

Faith.  But  I  am  ready  to  think  you  do  but  jest,  be¬ 
cause  you  smiled. 

Chr.  God  forbid  that  I  should  jest  (though  I  smiled) 
in  this  matter,  or  that  I  should  accuse  any  falsely.  I 
will  give  you  a  further  discovery  of  him.  This  man 
is  for  any  company  and  for  any  talk ;  as  he  talketh 
now  with  you,  so  will  he  talk  when  he  is  on  the  ale- 
bench,  and  the  more  drink  he  hath  in  his  crown,  the 
more  of  these  things  he  hath  in  his  mouth.  Religion 
hath  no  place  in  his  heart,  or  house,  or  conversation; 
all  he  hath  lieth  in  his  tongue,  and  his  religion  is  to 
make  a  noise  therewith. 

Faith.  Say  you  so?  Then  am  I  in  this  man  greatly 
deceived. 

Chr.  Deceived  !  you  may  be  sure  of  it.  Remember 
the  proverb,  “  They  say,  and  do  not Ta,k,tive  talkl> 
but  the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  in  word,  bu*  does  not. 
but  in  power,  Matt.  23  :  3;  1  Cor.  4  :  20.  He  talketh  of 
prayer,  of  repentance,  of  faith,  and  of  the  new  birth  ; 
but  he  knows  but  only  to  talk  of  them.  I  have  been 
in  his  family,  and  have  observed  him  both  at  home 
and  abroad;  and  I  know  what  I  say  of  him  is  the 
truth.  His  house  is  as  empty  of  reli-  Hi9  houge  .g 
gion  as  the  white  of  an  egg  is  of  sa-  emPly  of  religion, 
vor.  There  is  there  neither  prayer,  nor  sign  of  re¬ 
pentance  for  sin ;  yea,  the  brute,  in  his  kind,  serves 
God  far  better  than  he.  He  is  the  very  He  i.  a  st,i„  to 
stain,  reproach,  and  shame  of  religion  relieion- 
to  all  that  know  him,  Rom.  2  :  24,  25;  it  can  hardly 
have  a  good  word  in  all  that  end  of  the  town  where 
he  dwells,  through  him.  Thus  say  the  common  peo- 

9* 


102 


CHRISTIAN  DESCRIBES 


The  proverb  pie  that  know  him,  “  A  saint  abroad, 
that  goes  ot  inm.  ail(j  a  devi|  at  home.”  His  poor  family 

finds  it  so  ;  he  is  such  a  churl,  such  a  railer  at,  and  so 
unreasonable  with,  his  servants,  that  they  neither 

Men  shun  to  deal  know  how  to  do  for  or  speak  to  him. 
with  him.  Men  that  have  any  dealings  with  him 

say,  It  is  better  to  deal  with  a  Turk  than  with  him,  for 
fairer  dealings  they  shall  have  at  their  hands.  This 
Talkative  (if  it  be  possible)  will  go  beyond  them,  de¬ 
fraud,  beguile,  and  overreach  them.  Besides,  he 
brings  up  his  sons  to  follow  his  steps  ;  and  if  he  finds 
in  any  of  them  a  foolish  timorousness,  (for  so  he  calls 
the  first  appearance  of  a  tender  conscience,)  he  calls 
them  fools  and  blockheads,  and  by  no  means  will  em¬ 
ploy  them  in  much,  or  speak  to  their  commendation 
before  others.  For  my  part,  I  am  of  opinion  that  he 
has,  by  his  wicked  life,  caused  many  to  stumble  and 
fall ;  and  will  be,  if  God  prevents  not,  the  ruin  of 
many  more. 

Faith.  Well,  my  brother,  I  am  bound  to  believe 
you,  not  only  because  you  say  you  know  him,  but 
also  because,  like  a  Christian,  you  make  your  reports 
of  men.  For  I  cannot  think  that  you  speak  these 
things  of  ill-will,  but  because  it  is  even  so  as  you  say. 

Chr.  Had  I  known  him  no  more  than  you,  I  might, 
perhaps,  have  thought  of  him  as  at  the  first  you  did; 
yea,  had  I  received  this  report  at  their  hands  only, 
that  are  enemies  to  religion.  I  should  have  thought  it 
had  been  a  slander,  a  lot  that  oft  falls  from  bad  men’s 
mouths  upon  good  men’s  names  and  professions.  But 
all  these  things,  yea,  and  a  great  many  more  as  bad, 
of  my  own  knowledge,  I  can  prove  him  guilty  of.  Be¬ 
sides,  good  men  are  ashamed  of  him  ;  they  can  neither 
call  him  brother  nor  friend ;  the  very  naming  of  him 
among  them  makes  them  blush,  if  they  know  him. 


talkative’s  character. 


103 


Faith.  Well,  I  see  that  saying  and  doing  are  two 
things,  and  hereafter  I  shall  better  observe  this  dis¬ 
tinction. 

Chr.  They  are  two  things  indeed,  and  are  as  diverse 
as  are  the  soul  and  the  body;  for  as  the  body  without 
the  soul  is  but  a  dead  carcase,  so  saying ,  The  carcase  of 

if  it  be  alone,  is  but  a  dead  carcase  also.  religion- 
The  soul  of  religion  is  the  practical  part.  “  Pure  reli¬ 
gion  and  undefiled  before  God  and  the  Father,  is  this, 
to  visit  the  fatherless  and  widows  in  their  affliction, 
and  to  keep  himself  unspotted  from  the  world,”  James, 
1  :  27;  see  also  verses  22 — 26.  This  Talkative  is  not 
aware  of;  he  thinks  that  hearing  and  saying  will  make 
a  good  Christian;  and  thus  he  deceiveth  his  own  soul. 
Hearing  is  but  as  the  sowing  of  the  seed ;  talking  is  not 
sufficient  to  prove  that  fruit  is  indeed  in  the  heart  and 
life.  And  let  us  assure  ourselves,  that  at  the  day  of 
doom  men  shall  be  judged  according  to  their  fruits, 
Matt.  13  :  23.  It  will  not  be  said  then,  Did  you  believe? 
but,  Were  you  doers,  or  talkers  only  ?  and  accordingly 
shall  they  be  judged.  The  end  of  the  world  is  com¬ 
pared  to  our  harvest,  Matt.  13  :  30,  and  you  know  men 
at  harvest  regard  nothing  but  fruit.  Not  that  any  thing 
can  be  accepted  that  is  not  of  faith ;  but  I  speak  this  to 
show  you  how  insignificant  the  profession  of  Talkative 
will  be  at  that  day. 

Faith.  This  brings  to  my  mind  that  of  Moses,  by 
which  he  describeth  the  beast  that  is  clean,  Lev.  11. 
Deut.  14.  He  is  such  an  one  that  parteth  the  hoof,  and 
cheweth  the  cud ;  not  that  parteth  the  hoof  only,  o  ; 
that  cheweth  the  cud  only.  The  hare  cheweth  the 
cud.  but  yet  is  unclean,  because  he  parteth  not  tl  e 
hoof.  And  this  truly  resembleth  Talka-  ^  ... . .  .  . 

tive:  he  cheweth  the  cud,  he  seeketh  °f  the  badass  of 
knowledge;  he  cheweth  upon  the  word,  la,katue- 


104 


DISCOURSE  BETWEEN 


but  he  divideth  not  the  hoof.  He  parteth  not  with  the 
way  of  sinners;  but  as  the  hare,  retaineth  the  foot  of  a 
dog  or  bear,  and  therefore  he  is  unclean. 

Chr.  You  have  spoken,  for  aught  I  know,  the  true 
Gospel  sense  of  these  texts.  And  I  will  add  another 
Talkative  like  two  ^^g :  Paul  calleth  some  men,  yea,  and 
withouUife  souad  ^ose  grea^  talkers  too,  sounding  brass, 
and  tinkling  cymbals,  1  Cor.  13  :  1,  3; 
that  is,  as  he  expounds  them  in  another  place,  things 
without  life  giving  sound,  1  Cor.  14  :  7.  Things  with¬ 
out  life;  that  is,  without  the  true  faith  and  grace  of  the 
Gospel ;  and,  consequently,  things  that  shall  never  be 
placed  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  among  those  that  are 
the  children  of  life;  though  their  sound,  by  their  talk, 
be  as  if  it  were  the  tongue  or  voice  of  an  angel. 

Faith.  Well,  I  was  not  so  fond  of  his  company  at 
first,  but  I  am  as  sick  of  it  now.  What  shall  we  do  to 
be  rid  of  him  ? 

Chr.  Take  my  advice,  and  do  as  I  bid  you,  and  you 
shall  find  that  he  will  soon  be  sick  of  your  company 
too,  except  God  shall  touch  his  heart,  and  turn  it. 

Faith.  What  would  you  have  me  to  do? 

Chr.  Why,  go  to  him,  and  enter  into  some  serious 
discourse  about  the  power  of  religion,  and  ask  him 
plainly,  (when  he  has  approved  of  it,  for  that  he  will,) 
whether  this  thing  be  set  up  in  his  heart,  house,  or 
conversation. 

Faith.  Then  Faithful  stepped  forward  again,  and 
said  to  Talkative,  Come,  what  cheer  ?  How  is  it  now? 

Talk.  Thank  you,  well :  I  thought  we  should  have 
had  a  great  deal  of  talk  by  this  time. 

Faith.  Well,  if  you  will,  we  will  fall  to  it  now;  and 
since  you  left  it  with  me  to  state  the  question,  let  it  be 
this :  How  doth  the  saving  grace  of  God  discover 
itself,  when  it  is  in  the  heart  of  man  ? 


FAITHFUL  AND  TALKATIVE.  105 

Talk.  I  perceive,  then,  that  our  talk  must  be  about 

tiie  I™'™1'  °f  thillgS-  WC11>  U  iS  “  Very  Talkative's  false 

good  question,  and  I  shall  be  willing  to  discovery  of  a 
answer  you.  And  take  my  answer  in  work  oferace* 
brief,  thus.  First,  when  the  grace  of  God  is  in  the 
heart,  it  causeth  there  a  great  outcry  against  sin.  Se¬ 
condly — 

Faith.  Nay,  hold,  let  us  consider  of  one  at  once.  I 
think  you  should  rather  say,  It  shows  itself  by  inclin¬ 
ing  the  soul  to  abhor  its  sin. 

Talk.  AA  hyy,  what  difference  is  there  between  cry¬ 
ing  out  against,  and  abhorring  of  sin? 

Faith.  Oh  !  a  great  deal.  A  man  may  cry  out  against 
sin  of  policy;  but  he  cannot  abhor  it  but  by  virtue  of  a 
godly  antipathy  against  it.  I  have  heard  ,r 

.  .  io  cry  out  against 

many  cry  out  against  sin  in  the  pulpit,  no  sigu  of 
who  yet  can  abide  it  well  enough  in  the  grace* 
heart,  house,  and  conversation,  Gen.  39  :  15.  Joseph’s 
mistress  cried  out  with  a  loud  voice,  as  if  she  had  been 
very  chaste;  but  she  would  willingly,  notwithstanding 
that,  have  committed  uncleanness  with  him.  Some  crv 
out  against  sin,  even  as  the  mother  cries  out  against 
her  child  in  her  lap,  when  she  calleth  it  slut  and 
naughty  girl,  and  then  falls  to  hugging  and  kissing  it. 

Talk.  You  lie  at  the  catch,  I  perceive. 

Faith.  No,  not  I ;  I  am  only  for  setting  things 
right.  But  what  is  the  second  thing  whereby  you 
would  prove  a  discovery  of  a  work  of  grace  in  the 
heart  ? 

Talk.  Great  knowledge  of  gospel  mysteries  ? 

Faith.  This  sign  should  have  been  first;  but  first 
or  last,  it  is  also  false ;  for  knowledge,  Grcat  kn0„,ed?. 
great  knowledge,  ma'y  be  obtained  jll  no  sign  of  grace, 
the  mysteries  of  the  gospel,  and  yet  no  work  of  grace 


106 


DISCOURSE  BETWEEN 


in  the*  soul.  Yea,  if  a  man  have  all  knowledge,  he 
may  yet  be  nothing,  and  so,  consequently,  be  no  child 
of  God,  1  Cor.  13:  2.  When  Christ  said,  “Do  you 
know  all  these  things  ?”  and  the  disciples  had  an¬ 
swered,  yes,  he  addeth,  “  Blessed  are  ye  if  ye  do  them.” 
He  doth  not  lay  the  blessing  in  the  knowing  of  them, 


Two  kinds  of  but  in  the  doing  of  them.  For  there  is  a 
knowledge.  knowledge  that  is  not  attended  with 
doing  :  “  He  that  knoweth  his  master’s  will,  and  doth 
it  not.”  A  man  may  know  like  an  angel,  and  yet  be 
no  Christian ;  therefore  your  sign  of  it  is  not  true. 
Indeed,  to  know,  is  a  thing  that  pleaseth  talkers  and 
boasters  ;  but  to  do,  is  that  which  pleaseth  God.  Not 
that  the  heart  can  be  good  without  knowledge,  for 
without  that  the  heart  is  naught.  There  are,  therefore, 
two  sorts  of  knowledge,  knowledge  that  resteth  in  the 


bare  speculation  of  things,  and  knowledge  that  is  ac- 

True  knowledge  coraPanied  with  the  grace  of  faith  and 
attended  with  en-  love,  which  puts  a  man  upon  doing  even 

deavors  '  1  x  o 

the  will  of  God  from  the  heart  :  the 
first  of  these  will  serve  the  talker;  but  without  the 
other  the  true  Christian  is  not  content.  “Give  me 
understanding,  and  I  shall  keep  thy  law  ;  yea,  I  shall 
observe  it  with  my  whole  heart,”  Psalm  119  :  34. 

Talk.  You  lie  at  the  catch  again:  this  is  not  for 
edification. 

Faith.  Well,  if  you  please,  propound  another  sign 
how  this  work  of  grace  discovereth  itself  where  it  is. 

Talk.  Not  I,  for  I  see  we  shall  not  agree. 

Faith.  Well,  if  you  will  not,  will  you  give  me 
leave  to  do  it  ? 

Talk.  You  may  use  your  liberty. 

Faith.  A  work  of  grace  in  tHe  soul  discovereth  it¬ 
self,  either  to  him  that  hath  it,  or  to  standers  by. 


faithful  AND  TALKATIVE  107 

To  him  that  hath  it,  thus:  It  gives  him  convic 
tioii  of  sin,  especially  the  defilement  of 
his  nature,  and  the  sin  of  unbelief  for  ?ne  good  sien 
the  sake  of  which  he  is  sure  to  be 
damned,  if  he  findeth  not  mercy  at  God’s  hand  by 
faith  in  Jesus  Christ.  This  sight  and  sense  of  things 
worketh  in  him  sorrow  and  shame  for  sin,  Psalm  38: 
18;  Jer.  31  :  19;  John,  16:  8;  Rom.  7:  24;  Mark,  16: 
16;  Gal.  2:  16;  Rev.  1  :  6.  He  findeth,  moreover, 
levealed  in  him  the  Savior  of  the  world,  and  the  abso¬ 
lute  necessity  of  closing  with  him  for  life ;  at  the 
which  he  findeth  hungerings  and  thirstings  after  him  ; 
to  which  hungerings,  &c.  the  promise  is  made.  Now 
according  to  the  strength  or  weakness  of  his  faith  in 
his  Savior,  so  is  his  joy  and  peace,  so  is  his  love  to 
holiness,  so  are  his  desires  to  know  him  more,  and 
also  to  serve  him  in  this  world.  But  though,  I  say  it 
discovered!  itself  thus  unto  him,  yet  it  is  but  seldom 
that  he  is  able  to  conclude  that  this  is  a  work  of  <wace  • 
because  his  corruptions  now,  and  his  abused  reason’ 
make  his  mind  to  misjudge  in  this  matter  ;  therefore 
in  him  that  hath  this  work  there  is  required  a  very 
sound  judgment  before  he  can  with  steadiness  con¬ 
clude  that  this  is  a  work  of  grace,  John,  16 :  9 ;  Gal.  2 : 
15, 16  ;  Acts,  4  :  12  ;  Matt.  5:6;  Rev.  21 :  6. 

To  others  it  is  thus  discovered  : 

1.  By  an  experimental  confession  of  faith  in  Christ 
2.  By  a  life  answerable  to  that  confession ;  to  wit  a 
life  of  holiness;  heart-holiness,  family-holiness,  (if  he 
hath  a  family,)  and  by  conversation-holiness  ’in  the 
world;  which  in  the  general  teacheth  him  inwardly 
to  abhor  his  sin,  and  himself  for  that,  in  secret  -  to 
suppress  it  in  his  family,  and  to  promote  holiness  in 
the  world ;  not  by  talk  only,  as  a  hypocrite  or  talka- 


10S 


DISCOURSE  BETWEEN 


live  person  may  do,  but  by  a  practical  subjection  in 
faith  and  love  to  the  power  of  the  word,  Job,  42 :  5,  6; 
Psalm  50  :  23 ;  Ezek.  20:  43;  Matt.  5:8;  John,  14: 
15;  Rom.  10:  10;  Ezek.  36:  25;  Phil.  1:  27 ;  3— 17. 
And  now,  sir,  as  to  this  brief  description  of  the  work 
oi  grace,  and  also  the  discovery  of  it,  if  you  have 
aught  to  object,  object ;  if  not,  then  give  me  leave  to 
propound  to  you  a  second  question. 

Talk.  Nay,  my  part  is  not  now  to  object,  but  to 
hear  ;  let  me,  therefore,  have  your  second  question. 

Faith.  It  is  this  :  Do  you  experience  this  first  part 
of  this  description  of  it?  And  doth  your  life  and  con- 
Anotber  good  versation  testify  the  same?  or  standeth 
S>g»  of  grace.  your  rePgion  }n  wor(J  or  tongue, 

and  not  in  deed  and  truth  ?  Pray,  if  you  incline  to 
answer  me  in  this,  say  no  more  than  you  know  the 
God  above  will  say  Amen  to,  and  also  nothing  but 
what  your  conscience  can  justify  you  in;  for  not  he 
that  commendeth  himself  is  approved,  but  whom  the 
Lord  commendeth,.  Besides,  to  say,  I  am  thus  and 
thus,  when  my  conversation,  and  all  my  neighbors, 
tell  me  I  lie,  is  great  wickedness. 

Then  Talkative  at  first  began  to  blush;  but,  recover¬ 
ing  himself,  thus  he  replied  :  You  come  now  to  expe¬ 
rience,  to  conscience,  and  God ;  and  to  appeal  to  him 
for  justification  of  what  is  spoken.  This  kind  of  dis- 
Taikativo  not  course  I  did  not  expect;  nor  am  I  dis- 

fursSqnestionFaith"  Posec^  to  an  answer  to  such  ques¬ 
tions,  because  I  count  not  myself  bound 
thereto,  unless  you  take  upon  you  to  be  a  catechiser; 
and  though  you  should  so  do,  yet  I  may  refuse  to 
make  you  my  judge.  But  I  pray,  will  you  tell  me 
wW  vou  ask  me  such  questions  ? 

Faith.  Because  I  saw  you  forward  to  talk,  and  be¬ 
lt  use  I  knew  not  that  you  had  aught  else  but  notion. 


FAITHFUL  AND  TALKATIVE. 


109 


Besides,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  have 

i  1  n  .  ,  The  reason  wh\* 

heai  cl  oi  you  that  you  are  a  man  whose  Faithful  put  to  him 
religion  lies  in  talk,  and  that  your  con- t!ut  quesuou. 
versation  gives  this  your  mouth  profession  the  lie. 
They  say  you  are  a  spot  among  Chris-  Fait!lful,s  plaia 
tians,  and  that  religion  fareth  the  worse  ‘leaiing  with  Talk- 
for  your  ungodly  conversation;  that  ailvc’ 
some  already  have  stumbled  at  your  wicked  ways, 
and  that  more  are  in  danger  of  being  destroyed  there¬ 
by  5  your  religion,  and  an  ale-house,  and  covetousness, 
and  uncleanness,  and  swearing,  and  lying,  and  vain 
company-keeping,  &c.  will  stand  together.  The  pro¬ 
verb  is  true  of  you  which  is  said  of  a  harlot,  to  wit, 

That  she  is  a  shame  to  all  women.”  So  you  are  a 
shame  to  all  professors. 

Talk.  Since  you  are  so  ready  to  take  up  reports, 
and  to  judge  so  rashly  as  you  do,  I  can¬ 
not  but  conclude  you  are  some  peevish  FaidiSadlcn  Lid* 
or  melancholy  man,  not  fit  to  be  dis- 
coursed  with;  and  so,  adieu. 

1  hen  came  up  Christian,  and  said  to  his  brother,  I 
to’ 3  you  how  it  would  happen;  your  words  and  his 
lusts  could  not  agree.  Ke  had  rather  leave  your  com¬ 
pany  than  reform  his  life.  But  he  is  gone,  as  I  said: 
let  him  go;  the  loss  is  no  man’s  but  his 
own ;  he  has  saved  us  the  trouble  of  go-  A  &ood  riddanco* 
ing  from  him ;  for  he  continuing  (as  I  suppose  he  will 
do)  as  he  is,  he  would  have  been  but  a  blot  in  our  com¬ 
pany.  Besides,  the  apostle  says,  “  From  such  with¬ 
draw  thyself.” 

Faitii.  But  I  am  glad  we  had  this  little  discourse 
with  him ;  it  may  happen  that  he  will  think  of  it  again . 
however,  I  have  dealt  plainly  with  him,  and  so  am 
clear  of  his  blood,  if  he  periskc'.h. 

10 


110  EVANGELIST  OVERTAKES  THE  PILGRIMS. 


Chr.  You  did  well  to  talk  so  plainly  to  him  as  you 
did.  There  is  but  little  of  this  faithful  dealing  with 
men  now-a-days,  and  that  makes  religion  to  stink  in 
the  nostrils  of  so  many  as  it  doth;  for  they  are  these 
talkative  fools,  whose  religion  is  only  in  word,  and 
who  are  debauched  and  vain  in  their  conversation,  that 
(being  so  much  admitted  into  the  fellowship  of  the 
godly)  do  puzzle  the  world,  blemish  Christianity,  and 
grieve  the  sincere.  I  wish  that  all  men  would  deal 
with  such  as  you  have  done;  then  should  they  either 
be  made  more  conformable  to  religion,  or  the  com¬ 
pany  of  saints  would  be  too  hot  for  them. 

IIow  Talkative  at  first  lifts  up  his  plumes ! 

II  o\v  bravely  doth  he  speak !  IIow  ln*  presumes 
To  drive  down  all  before  him  !  But  so  soon 
1  As  Faithful  talks  of  heart-work,  like  the  moon 

That’s  past  the  full,  into  the  wane  he  pees ; 

And  so  will  all  but  he  that  heart-work  knows. 


Thus  they  went  on,  talking  of  what  they  had  seen 
by  the  way,  and  so  made  that  way  easy,  which  would 
otherwise  no  doubt  have  been  tedious  to  them,  for  now 
they  went  through  a  wilderness. 

Now  when  they  were  got  almost  quite  out  of  this 
wilderness,  Faithful  chanced  to  cast  his  eye  back,  and 
espied  one  coming  after  them,  and  he  knew  him.  Oh ! 
said  Faithful  to  his  brother,  who  comes  yonder?  Then 
Christian  looked,  and  said,  It  is  my  good  friend  Evan¬ 
gelist.  Ay,  and  my  good  friend  too,  said  Faithful,  for 
5twas  he  that  set  me  on  the  way  to  the  gate.  Now  was 

Evangelist  over-  Evangelist  come  up  unto  them,  and  thus 
takes  them.  saluted  them. 

Evan.  Peace  be  to  you,  dearly  beloved,  and  peace 
be  to  your  helpers. 

Chr.  \\  elcome,  welcome,  my  good  Evangelist,  the 


evangelist’s  EXHORTATIONS.  Ill 

sight  of  thy  countenance  brings  to  my  They  arc  sm  .t 
remembrance  thy  ancient  kindness  and  l'le  sight  of him. 
unwearied  labors  for  my  eternal  good. 

Faith.  And  a  thousand  times  welcome,  said  good 
Faithful,  thy  company,  O  sweet  Evangelist;  how  de¬ 
sirable  is  it  to  us  poor  pilgrims  ! 

Evan.  Then  said  Evangelist,  How  hath  it  fared  with 
you,  my  friends,  since  the  time  of  our  last  parting? 
What  have  you  met  with,  and  how  have  you  behaved 
yourselves  ? 

Then  Christian  and  Faithful  told  him  of  all  things 
that  had  happened  to  them  in  the  way;  and  how.  and 
with  what  difficulty,  they  had  arrived  to  that  place. 

F^ght  glad  am  I,  said  Evangelist,  not  that  you 
have  met  with  trials,  but  that  you  have  „„  cx!lortatiou 
been  victors,  and  for  that  you  have,  t0  the"K 
notwithstanding  many  weaknesses,  continued  in  the 
way  to  this  very  day. 

I  say,  right  glad  am  I  of  this  thing,  and  that  for  mine 
own  sake  and  yours ;  I  have  sowed,  and  you  have  reap¬ 
ed  ;  and  the  day  is  coming,  when  “  both  he  that  soweth, 
and  they  that  reap,  shall  rejoice  together,”  John.  4  : 
36;  that  is,  if  you  hold  out:  “for  in  due  season  ye 
shall  reap,  if  ye  faint  not,”  Gal.  6  :  9.  The  crown  is 
before  you,  and  it  is  an  incorruptible  one;  “so  run 
that  ye  may  obtain  it,”  1  Cor.  9  :  24—27.  Some  there 
be  that  set  out  for  this  crown,  and  after  they  have  gone 
fai  foi  it,  another  comes  in  and  takes  it  from  them : 

hold  fast,  therefore,  that  you  have  :  let  no  man  take 
your  crown,”  Rev.  3:11.  You  are  not  yet  out  of  the 
gun-shot  of  the  devil ;  “  you  have  not  yet  resisted  unto 
blood,  striving  against  sin.”  Let  the  kingdom  be  al 
ways  before  you,  and  believe  stedfastly  concernino- 
things  that  are  invisible.  Let  nothing  that  is  on  this 


112 


evangelist’s  exhortations. 


side  the  other  world  get  within  you.  And,  above  alj, 
look  well  to  your  own  hearts  and  to  the  lusts  thereof; 
for  they  are  “  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desperately 
wicked.”  Set  your  faces  like  a  flint ;  you  have  all 
power  in  heaven  and  earth  on  your  side. 

Chr.  Then  Christian  thanked  him  for  his  exhorta- 

riiey  do  tiismk  t*011 5  ^llt  to^  him  withall,  that  they 
him  for  his  exhor-  would  have  him  speak  farther  to  them 

for  their  help  the  rest  of  the  way ;  and 
the  rather,  for  that  they  well  knew  that  he  was  a  pro 
phet,  and  could  tell  them  of  things  that  might  happen 
unto  them,  and  also  how  they  might  resist  and  over¬ 
come  them.  To  which  request  Faithful  also  consented. 
So  Evangelist  began  as  followeth. 

Evan.  My  sons,  you  have  heard  in  the  word  of  the 
tT  ,  truth  of  the  gospel,  that  you  must 

wimt  troubles  they  “through  many  tribulations  enter  into 

Vanity  Fairv,lt!and  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ;”  and  again, 
eneouraj-eth  them  that  “in  every  city,  bonds  and  afflictions 

to  stedfostuess.  ...  ,,  .  ,  , 

abide  you;”  and  therefore  you  cannot 
expect  that  you  should  go  long  on  your  pilgrimage 
without  them,  in  some  sort  or  other.  You  have  found 
something  of  the  truth  of  these  testimonies  upon  you 
already,  and  more  will  immediately  follow;  for  now, 
as  you  see,  you  are  almost  out  of  this  wilderness,  and 
therefore  you  will  soon  come  into  a  town  that  you 
will  by  and  by  see  before  you ;  and  in  that  town  you 
will  be  hardly  beset  with  enemies,  who  will  strain 
hard  but  they  will  kill  you ;  and  be  you  sure  that 
one  or  botli  of  you  must  seal  the  testimony  which  you 
hold,  with  blood ;  but  “be  you  faithful  unto  death,  and 
the  King  will  give  you  a  crown  of  life.”  He  that 
lie  uiioso  lot  it  will  shall  die  there,  although  his  death  will 

be  there  to  suffer,  ,  ,  ,  .  ,  .  , 

Hiii  in* vi*  t!ie  i.et-  be  unnatural,  and  his  pains,  perhaps, 
,e‘ ui  ;i‘-'  brother,  (treat,  lie  will  yet  have  the  better  of  his 


VANITY  FAIR. 


113 

fellow  •  not  only  because  he  will  be  arrived  at  the  ce- 
lestial  city  soonest,  but  because  he  will  escape  many 
miseiies  that  the  other  will  meet  with  in  the  rest  of 
his  journey.  But  when  you  are  come  to  the  town 
and  shall  find  fulfilled  what  I  have  here  related  then 
remember  your  friend,  and  quit  yourselves  like  men, 
and  commit  the  keeping  of  your  souls  to  God  in 
well-doing,  as  unto  a  faithful  Creator.” 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  when  they  were  got 
out  of  the  wilderness,  they  presently  saw  a  town  before 
them,  and  the  name  of  that  town  is  Vanity ;  and  at  the 
town  there  is  a  fair  kept,  called  Vanity  Fair.  It  is  kept 
all  the  year  long.  It  beareth  the  name  of  Vanity  Fair 
because  the  town  where  it  is  kept  is  lighter  than 
vanity,  Psalm  02  :  9 ;  and  also,  because  all  that  is  there 
sold,  or  that  cometh  thither,  is  vanity ;  as  is  the  saying 
of  the  wise,  “All  that  cometh  is  vanity,”  Eccl  11  •  8°- 
see  also  1  :  2-14.  2  :  11-17.  Isa.  40  :  17. 

This  fair  is  no  new-erected  business,  but  a  thing  of 
ancient  standing.  I  will  show  you  the  The  antiquity  ot 
original  of  it.  this  fair.  y 

Almost  five  thousand  years  ago  there  were  pilgrims 
walking  to  the  celestial  city,  as  these  two  honest  per¬ 
sons  are;  and  Beelzebub,  Apollyon,  and  Legion,  with 
their  companions,  perceiving  by  the  path  that  the  pil¬ 
grims  made,  that  their  way  to  the  city  lay  through 
this  town  of  Vanity,  they  contrived  here  to  set  up° a 
fair;  a  fair  wherein  should  be  sold  all  sorts  of  vanity 
and  that  it  should  last  all  the  year  long.  Therefore  at 
this  fair  are  all  such  merchandise  sofd  Tl„  m„chaJ‘ 
as  houses,  lands,  trades,  places,  honors,  oftll's/uir. 
preferments,  titles,  countries,  kingdoms,  lusts,  plea¬ 
sures;  and  delights  of  all  sorts,  as  harlots,  wives,  hus¬ 
bands,  children,  masters,  servants,  lives,  blood,  bodies 

10* 


114 


VANITY  FAIR, 


souls,  silver,  gold,  pearls,  precious  stones,  and  whatnot. 

And  moreover,  at  this  fair  there  is  at  all  times  to  be 
seen  jugglings,  cheats,  games,  plays,  fools,  apes,  knaves, 
and  rogues,  and  that  of  every  kind. 

Here  are  to  be  seen,  too,  and  that  for  nothing,  thefts, 
murders,  adulteries,  false  swearers,  and  that  of  a  blood- 
red  color. 

And  as,  in  other  fairs  of  less  moment,  there  are  the 
several  rows  and  streets  under  their  proper  names, 
where  such  and  such  wares  are  vended :  so  here  like¬ 
wise  you  have  the  proper  places,  rows,  streets,  (name¬ 
ly,  countries  and  kingdoms,)  where  the  wares  of  this 
fair  are  soonest  to  be  found.  Here  is  the  Britain 

Tho  streets  of  Row,  the  French  Row,  the  Italian  Row, 
tUis  ,uir-  the  Spanish  Row,  the  German  Row, 

where  several  sorts  of  vanities  are  to  be  sold.  But 
as  in  other  fairs  some  one  commodity  is  as  the  chief 
of  all  the  fair,  so  the  ware  of  Rome  and  her  merchan¬ 
dise  is  greatly  promoted  in  this  fair;  only  our  English 
nation,  with  some  others,  have  taken  a  dislike  thereat. 

Now,  as  I  said,  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City  lies 
just  through  this  town  where  this  lusty  fair  is  kept; 
and  he  that  would  go  to  the  city,  and  yet  not  go 
through  this  town,  “  must  needs  go  out  of  the  world,” 
1  Cor.  5  :  10.  The  Prince  of  princes 

Christ  went  himself,  when  here,  went  through  this 
through  this  fair.  3  7  ° 

town  to  his  own  country,  and  that  upon 
a  fair-day  too  ;  yea,  and,  as  I  think,  it  was  Beelzebub, 
the  chief  lord  of  this  fair,  that  invited  him  to  buy  of  his 
vanities,  yea,  would  have  made  him  lord  of  the  fair, 
would  he  but  have  done  him  reverence  as  he  went 
through  the  town.  Yea,  because  he  was  such  a  per¬ 
son  of  honor,  Beelzebub  had  him  from  street  to  street, 
and  showed  him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  in  a 


HUBBUB  AT  THE  PILGRIMS  IN  THE  FAIR.  115 

little  time,  that  he  might,  if  possible,  allure  that 
Blessed  One  to  cheapen  and  buy  some  of  his  vanities; 
but  he  had  no  mind  to  the  merchandise, 
and,  therefore,  left  the  town  without  .9hri.stb1°"='ltno- 
laying  out  so  much  as  one  farthing 
upon  these  vanities,  Matt.  4  :  1—8;  °Luke,  4  :  5—8. 
This  fair,  therefore,  is  an  ancient  thing  of  long  stand¬ 
ing,  and  a  very  great  fair. 

Now  these  pilgrims,  as  I  said,  must  needs  go  through 
tliis  fair.  Well,  so  they  did  ;  but,  be-  Tll0  pi,erims 
hold,  even  as  they  entered  into  the  fair.  tcr  tlle 
all  the  people  in  the  fair  were  moved,  and  the  town 
itself,  as  it  were,  in  a  hubbub  about  The  fair  in  a hub- 
lliem,  and  that  for  several  reasons :  For,  bub  about  lhe,n* 

First,  The  pilgrims  were  clothed  with  such  kind 

of  raiment  as  was  diverse  from  the  Tte  first  cau»  of 
raiment  of  any  that  traded  in  that  fair.  tIle  hubbub. 

4  he  people,  therefore,  of  the  fair,  made  a  great  gazing 
upon  them  ;  some  said  they  were  fools ;  some  they 
were  bedlams  ;  and  some  they  were  outlandish  men, 
Job,  12:  4:  1  Cor.  4 :  9. 

Secondly,  And  as  they  wondered  at  their  apparel, 
so  they  did  likewise  at  their  speech ; 
for  few  could  understand  what  thev  Tr'lf  s.cc?‘,,d,cause 
said.  They  naturally  spoke  the  lan¬ 
guage  of  Canaan ;  but  they  that  kept  the  fair  were 
the  men  of  this  world.  So  that  from  one  end  of  the 
fail  to  the  other,  they  seemed  barbarians  each  to  the 
other,  1  Cor.  2  :  7,  8. 

1  hirdly ,  But  that  which  did  not  a  little  amuse  the 
merchandisers  was,  that  these  pilgrims  T.-  . 
set  very  light  by  all  their  wares.  They  tlle  hubbub, 
caied  not  so  much  as  to  look  upon  them  ;  and  if  they 
called  upon  them  to  buy,  they  would  put  their  fingers 


116 


THE  PILGRIMS  PUT  INTO  THE  CAGE. 


in  their  ears,  and  cry,  “Turn  away  mine  eyes  from 
beholding  vanity,”  Psalm  119  :  37;  and  look  upward, 
signifying  that  their  trade  and  traffic  was  in  heaven, 
Phil.  3  :  20,  21. 

One  chanced  mockingly,  beholding  the  carriage  of 
the  men,  to  say  unto  them,  “  W hat  will  ye  buy  ?” 
But  they,  looking  gravely  upon  him,  said,  “We  buy 
Fourth  cause  of  the  truth,”  Prov.  23  :  23.  At  that,  there 
the  hubbub.  was  an  occasion  taken  to  despise  the 
men  the  more ;  some  mocking,  some  taunting,  some 

They  are  mocked  sPea^no  reproachfully,  and  some  call- 
’  ing  upon  others  to  smite  them.  At 
last  things  came  to  a  hubbub  and  great  stir  in  the 
fair,  insomuch  that  all  order  was  confounded.  Now 
was  word  presently  brought  to  the  great  one  of  the 
fair,  who  quickly  came  down,  and  deputed  some  of 
his  most  trusty  friends  to  take  those  men  into  exami¬ 
nation  about  whom  the  fair  was  almost  overturned. 

They  are  ex-  So  the  men  were  brought  to  examina- 
ammcd.  tion ;  aud  they  that  sat  upon  them  asked 

whence  they  came,  whither  they  went,  and  what  they 
did  there  in  such  an  unusual  garb.  The  men  told 


They  tell  who  them  they  were  pilgrims  and  strangers 
they  are,  aud  in  the  world,  and  that  they  were  going 
to  their  own  country,  which  was  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem,  Heb.  11  :  13—16;  and  that  they 
had  given  no  occasion  to  the  men  of  the  town,  nor 
yet  to  the  merchandisers,  thus  to  abuse  them,  and  to 
let  them  in  their  journey,  except  it  was  for  that,  when 
one  asked  them  what  they  would  buy,  they  said  they 

They  are  not  be- would  buy  the  truth.  But  they  that 

lieved'  were  appointed  to  examine  them  did 

not,  believe  them  to  be  any  other  than  bedlams  and 
mad,  or  else  such  as  came  to  put  all  things  into  a 


THE  PILGRIMS  MUCH  PERSECUTED.  1J7 

confusion  in  the  fair.  Therefore  they  Tlley  ar0  put  i„ 
took  them  and  beat  them,  and  besmeared  thc  tase- 
them  with  dirt,  and  then  put  them  into  the  cage,  that 
they  might  be  made  a  spectacle  to  all  the  men  of  the 
fair.  There,  therefore,  they  lay  for  some  time,  and 
wore  made  the  objects  of  any  man’s  sport,  or  malice, 
or  revenge  ;  the  great  one  of  the  fair  laughing  still  at 
all  that  befell  them.  But  the  men  being  Tbeil.  beUavior  in 
patient,  and  “not  rendering  railing  for  tlieca&e* 
railing,  but  contrariwise  blessing,”  and  giving  good 
words  for  bad,  and  kindness  for  injuries  done,  some 
men  in  the  fair,  that  were  more  observing  and  less 
prejudiced  than  the  rest,  began  to  check  and  blame 
the  baser  sort  for  their  continual  abuses  done  by  them 
to  the  men.  They,  therefore,  in  angry  manner  let  fly 
at  them  again,  counting  them  as  bad  as  the  men  in  the 
cage,  and  telling  them  that  they  seemed  confederates, 
and  should  be  made  partakers  of  their  misfortunes. 
Tlie  others  replied,  that,  for  aught  they  could  see,  the 
men  were  quiet  and  sober,  and  intended  nobody  any 
harm  j  and  that  there  were  many  that  traded  in  their 
fair  that  were  more  worthy  to  be  put  into  the  cage, 
yea,  and  pillory  too,  than  were  the  men  that  they  had 
abused.  Thus,  after  divers  words  had  passed  on  both 
sides,  (the  men  behaving  themselves  all  the  while  very 
wisely  and  soberly  before  them,)  they  fell  to  some 
blows  among  themselves,  and  did  harm  one  to  another. 
Then  were  these  two  poor  men  brought 
before  their  examiners  again,  and  there  tiw  authors  oi’tiiw 
charged  as  being  guilty  of  the  late  hub-  di#turba,,cc* 
bub  that  had  been  in  the  fair.  So  they  beat  them  piti¬ 
fully,  and  hanged  irons  upon  them,  and  They  nr?  led  up 
led  them  in  chains  up  and  down  the  .nn,1t tl,c  fuir 
lair,  lor  an  example  and  terror  to  others,  ror  to others. 


118 


THE  PILGRIMS  BROUGHT  TO  TRfAL. 


lest  any  should  speak  in  their  behalf,  or  join  them¬ 
selves  unto  them.  But  Christian  and  Faithful  behaved 
themselves  yet  more  wisely,  and  received  the  igno¬ 
miny  and  shame  that  was  cast  upon  them  with  so 
much  meekness  and  patience,  that  it  won  to  their  side 
Some  men  of  the  (tho11^  but  few  in  comparison  of  the 
thei  W°U  °Ver  l°  1GSt)  several°f  lhe  men  in  the  fair.  This 
put  the  other  party  yet  into  a  greater 
rage,  insomuch  that  they  concluded  the  death  of  these 
two  men.  Wherefore  they  threatened,  that  neither 

Their  adversaries  cage  nor  irons  should  serve  their  turn, 
resolve  to  kill  them.  but  that  lhey  should  die  for  the  abuse 

they  had  done,  and  for  deluding  the  men  of  the  fair. 
^  hen  were  they  remanded  to  the  cage  again,  until 

They  are  again  put  further  order  should  be  taken  with  them, 
into  the  cage,  u..d  So  they  put  them  in,  and  made  them 

afterward  brought  fagt  jn  lhe  stocks. 

Here,  therefore,  they  called  again  to 
mind  what  ihty  had  heard  from  their  faithful  friend 
Evangelist,  and  were  the  more  confirmed  in  their  way 
and  sufferings,  by  what  he  told  them  would  happen  to 
them.  They  also  now  comforted  each  other,  that 
whose  lot  it  was  to  suffer,  even  he  should  have  the  best 
of  it :  therefore  each  man  secretly  wished  that  he  might 
have  that  preferment.  But  committing  themselves  to 
the  all-wise  disposal  of  Him  that  ruleth  all  things,  with 
much  content  they  abode  in  the  condition  in  which 
they  were,  until  they  should  be  otherwise  disposed  of 
Then  a  convenient  time  being  appointed,  they 
brought  them  forth  to  their  trial,  in  order  to  their 
condemnation.  When  the  time  was  come,  they  were 
brought  before  their  enemies,  and  arraigned.  The 
judge’s  name  was  Lord  Hate-good ;  their  indictment 
was  one  and  the  same  in  substance,  though  somewhat 


FAITHFUL'S  TRIAL — THE  WITNESSES.  119 

varying  in  form;  the  contents  whereof  was  this: 
•  That  they  were  enemies  to,  and  dis¬ 
turbers  of,  the  trade ;  that  they  had  made  Their  indictlnellt* 
commotions  and  divisions  in  the  town,  and  had  won  a 
party  to  their  own  most  dangerous  opinions,  in  con¬ 
tempt  of  the  law  of  their  prince.” 

Then  Faithful  began  to  answer,  that  he  had  only 
set  h.mself  against  that  which  had  set  FaitUfu,  mslvcrI 
itseli  against  Him  that  is  higher  than  ^or  himself, 
the  highest.  And,  said  he,  as  for  disturbance,  I  make 
none,  being  myself  a  man  of  peace:  the  parties  that 
were  won  to  us,  were  won  by  beholding  our  truth 
and  innocence,  and  they  are  only  turned  from  the 
woise  to  the  better.  And  as  to  the  king  you  talk  of, 
since  he  is  Beelzebub,  the  enemy  of  our  Lord,  I  defy 
him  and  all  his  angels. 

Then  proclamation  was  made,  that  they  that  had 
aught  to  say  for  their  lord  the  king  against  the  pri¬ 
soner  at  the  bar  should  forthwith  appear,  and  give  in 
their  evidence.  So  there  came  in  three  witnesses,  to 
wit,  Envy,  Superstition,  and  Pickthank.  They  were 
then  asked,  if  they  knew  the  prisoner  at  the  bar;  and 
what  they  had  to  say  for  their  lord  the  king  against  him. 

Then  stood  forth  Envy,  and  said  to  this  effect :  My 
lord,  I  have  known  this  man  a  long 
time,  and  will  attest  upon  oath  before  Envybe^ns- 

this  honorable  bench,  that  he  is _ 

Judge.  Hold — give  him  his  oath. 

So  they  sware  him.  Then  he  said,  My  lord,  this 
man,  notw  ithstanding  his  plausible  name,  is  one  of  the 
vilest  men  in  our  country ;  lie  neither  regardeth  prince 
nor  people,  law  nor  custom,  but  doeth  all  that  he  can 
to  possess  all  men  with  certain  of  his  disloyal  notions, 
which  he  in  the  general  calls  principles  of  faith  and 


120 


THE  WITNESSES  AGAINST  FAITHFUL. 


holiness.  And  in  particular,  I  heard  him  once  myself 
affirm,  that  Christianity  and  the  customs  of  our  town 
of  Vanity  were  diametrically  opposite,  and  could  not 
be  reconciled.  By  which  saying,  my  lord,  he  doth  at 
once  not  only  condemn  all  our  laudable  doings,  but  us 
in  the  doing  of  them. 

Then  did  the  judge  say  to  him,  Hast  thou  any  more 
to  say  ? 

Envy.  My  lord,  I  could  say  much  more,  only  I 
would  not  be  tedious  to  the  court.  Yet  if  need  be, 
when  the  other  gentlemen  have  given  in  their  evi¬ 
dence,  rather  than  any  thing  shall  be  wanting  that 
will  dispatch  him,  I  will  enlarge  my  testimony  against 
him.  So  he  was  bid  to  stand  by. 

Then  they  called  Superstition,  and  bid  him  look 

Superstition  foi-  upon  the  prisoner  at  the  bar.  They 
IoW8,  also  asked,  what  he  could  say  for  their 

lord  the  king  against  him.  Then  they  sware  him ;  so 
he  began: 

Super.  My  lord,  I  have  no  great  acquaintance  with 
this  man,  nor  do  I  desire  to  have  further  knowledge  of 
him.  However,  this  I  know,  that  he  is  a  very  pesti¬ 
lent  fellow,  from  some  discourse  that  I  had  with  him, 
the  other  day,  in  this  town;  for  then,  talking  with  him, 
I  heard  him  say,  that  our  religion  was  naught,  and 
such  by  which  a  man  could  by  no  means  please  God. 
Which  saying  of  Ins,  my  lord,  your  lordship  very  well 
knows  what  necessarily  thence  will  follow,  to  wit,  that 
we  still  do  worship  in  vain,  are  yet  in  our  sins,  and 
finally  shall  be  damned :  and  this  is  that  which  I  have 
to  say. 

Then  was  Pickthank  sworn,  and  bid  say  what  ho 
knew  in  the  behalf  of  their  lord  the  king  against  the 
prisoner  at  the  bar. 


faithful's  reply. 


121 

Pick.  My  lord,  and  you  gentlemen  all,  this  fellow  I 
have  known  of  a  long  time,  and  have  Pickthaak>8  tes. 
heard  him  speak  things  that  ought  not  timo“y- 
to  be  spoken ;  for  he  hath  railed  on  our  noble  prince 
Beelzebub,  and  hath  spoken  contemptibly  of  his 
honorable  friends,  whose  names  are,  the  Lord  Old 
Man,  the  Lord  Carnal  Delight,  the  Lord  Si„sar6alll„rd„ 
Luxurious,  the  Lord  Desire  of  Vain  and  &reat  ones- 
Glory,  my  old  Lord  Lechery,  Sir  Having  Greedy 
with  all  the  rest  of  our  nobility ;  and  he  hath  said, 
moreover,  that  if  all  men  were  of  his  mind,  if  possi¬ 
ble,  there  is  not  one  of  these  noblemen  should  have 
any  longer  a  being  in  this  town.  Besides,  he  hath  not 
been  afraid  to  rail  on  you,  my  lord,  who  are  now  ap¬ 
pointed  to  be  his  judge,  calling  you  an  ungodly  vil¬ 
lain,  with  many  other  such  like  vilifying  terms,  with 
which  he  hath  bespattered  most  of  the  gentry  of  our 
town. 

When  this  Pickthank  had  told  his  tale,  the  judge 
directed  his  speech  to  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  saying, 
Thou  runagate,  heretic,  and  traitor,  hast  thou  heard  what 
these  honest  gentlemen  have  witnessed  against  thee  ? 

F aith.  May  I  speak  a  few  words  in  my  own  defence  ? 

Judge.  Sirrah,  sirrah,  thou  deservest  to  live  no 
longer,  but  to  be  slain  immediately  upon  the  place ; 
yet  that  all  men  may  see  our  gentleness  toward  thee 
let  us  hear  what  thou  hast  to  say. 

Faith.  1.  I  say,  then,  in  answer  to  what  Mr.  Envy 
hath  spoken,  I  never  said  aught  but  Faithful,s  de. 
this,  that  what  rule,  or  laws,  or  custom  fence  of  himself, 
or  people,  were  flat  against  the  word  of  God,  are  dia¬ 
metrically  opposite  to  Christianity.  If  I  have  said 
amiss  in  this,  convince  me  of  my  error,  and  I  am 
ready  here  before  you  to  make  my  recantation. 

II 


122  the  judge’s  charge  to  the  jury. 

2.  As  to  the  second,  to  wit,  Mr.  Superstition,  and 
his  charge  against  me,  I  said  only  this,  that  in  the 
worship  of  God  there  is  required  a  divine  faith;  but 
there  can  be  no  divine  faith  without  a  divine  revela¬ 
tion  of  the  will  of  God.  Therefore,  whatever  is 
thrust  into  the  worship  of  God,  that  is  not  agreeable 
to  divine  revelation,  cannot  be  done  but  by  a  human 
faith,  which  faith  will  not  be  profitable  to  eternal  life. 

3.  As  to  what  Mr.  Pickthank  Lath  said,  I  say 
(avoiding  terms,  as  that  I  am  said  to  rail,  and  the 
like,)  that  the  prince  of  this  town,  with  all  the  rabble- 
ment,  his  attendants,  by  this  gentleman  named,  are 
more  fit  for  a  being  in  hell  than  in  this  town  and 
country.  And  so  the  Lord  have  mercy  upon  me. 

Then  the  judge  called  to  the  jury,  (who  all  this 

The  judge’s  while  stood  by  to  hear  and  observe,) 
6pcech  to  the  j  ui  y.  Qentiemen  of  the  jury,  you  see  this 

man  about  whom  so  great  an  uproar  hath  been  made 
in  this  town ;  you  have  also  heard  what  these  worthy 
gentlemen  have  witnessed  against  him  ;  also  you  have 
heard  his  reply  and  confession :  it  lieth  now  in  youi 
breasts  to  hang  him,  or  save  his  life  ;  but  yet  I  think 
meet  to  instruct  you  in  our  law. 

There  was  an  act  made  in  the  days  of  Pharaoh  the 
great,  servant  to  our  prince,  that,  lest  those  of  a  con¬ 
trary  religion  should  multiply,  and  grow  too  strong 
for  him,  their  males  should  be  thrown  into  the  river, 
Exod.  1 :  22.  There  was  also  an  act  made  in  the  days 
of  Nebuchadnezzar  the  great,  another  of  his  servants, 
that  whoever  would  not  fall  down  and  worship  his 
golden  image,  should  be  thrown  into  a  fiery  furnace, 
Dan.  3 :  6.  There  was  also  an  act  made  in  the  days 
of  Darius,  that  whoso  for  some  time  called  upon  any 
God  but  him,  should  be  cast  into  the  lion’s  den,  Dan. 


THE  JURY  FIND  FAITHFUL  GUILTY. 


123 

6:  7.  Now  the  substance  of  these  laws  this  rebel  has 
broken,  not  only  in  thought,  (which  is  not  to  be 
borne,)  but  also  in  word  and  deed ;  which  must, 
therefore,  needs  be  intolerable. 

For  that  of  Pharaoh,  his  lavv  was  made  upon  a  sup¬ 
position,  to  prevent  mischief,  no  crime  being  yet  ap¬ 
parent  ;  but  here  is  a  crime  apparent.  For  the  second 
and  third,  you  see  he  disputeth  against  our  religion ; 
and  for  the  treason  that  he  hath  confessed,  he  deserv- 
eth  to  die  the  death. 

Then  went  the  jury  out,  whose  names  were  Mr. 
Blindman,  Mr.  No-good,  Mr.  Malice,  Mr.  Lovelust, 
Mr.  Live-loose,  Mr.  Heady,  Mr.  High-mind,  Mr.  En- 
mily,  Mr.  Liar,  Mr.  Cruelty,  Mr.  Hatelight,  and  Mr. 
Implacable ;  who  every  one  gave  in  his  private  ver¬ 
dict  against  him  among  themselves,  and  afterward 
unanimously  concluded  to  bring  him  in  guilty  before 
the  judge.  And  first  among  themselves,  Mr.  Blind- 
man,  the  foreman,  said,  I  see  clearly  that  this  man  is  a 
heretic.  Then  said  Mr.  No-good,  Away  with  such  a 
fellow  from  the  earth.  Ay,  said  Mr.  Malice,  for  I  hate 
the  very  looks  of  him.  Then  said  Mr.  Love-lust,  I 
could  never  endure  him.  Nor  I,  said  Mr.  Live-loose, 
for  he  would  always  be  condemning  my  way.  Hang 
him,  hang  him,  said  Mr.  Heady.  A  sorry  scrub,  said 
Mr.  High-mind.  My  heart  riseth  against  him,  said  Mr. 
Enmity.  He  is  a  rogue,  said  Mr.  Liar.  Hanging  is 
too  good  for  him,  said  Mr.  Cruelty.  Let  us  despatch 
him  out  of  the  way,  said  Mr.  Hate-light.  Then  said 
Mr.  Implacable,  .Might  I  have  all  the  Thp 
world  given  me,  I  could  not  be  recon-  to  b^/ThniJ 
ciled  to  him  ;  therefore  let  us  forthwith  guilty  of  dcath- 
bring  him  in  guilty  of  death. 

And  so  they  did  j  therefore  he  was  presently  con- 


faithful’s  martyrdom. 


124 

< 

demned  to  be  had  from  the  place  where  he  was,  to  the 
place  from  whence  he  came,  and  there  to  be  put  to 
the  most  cruel  death  that  could  be  invented. 

They,  therefore,  brought  him  out,  to  do  with  him 
according  to  their  law;  and  first  they  scourged  him, 
The  cruel  death  then  they  buffetted  him,  then  they 
of  Faithful.  lanced  his  flesh  with  knives;  after  that 
they  stoned  him  with  stones ;  then  pricked  him  with 
their  swords;  and  last  of  all,  they  burned  him  to 
ashes  at  the  stake.  Thus  came  Faithful  to  his  end. 

Now  I  saw,  that  there  stood  behind  the  multitude  a 
chariot  and  a  couple  of  horses  waiting  for  Faithful, 
who  (so  soon  as  his  adversaries  had  dispatched  him) 
was  taken  up  into  it,  and  straightway  was  carried  up 
through  the  clouds  with  sound  of  trumpet,  the  nearest 
way  to  the  celestial  gate.  But  as  for  Christian,  he  had 
Christian  is  still  some  respite,  and  was  remanded  back  to 
alive-  prison ;  so  he  there  remained  for  a  space. 

But  He  who  overrules  all  things,  having  the  power  of 
their  rage  in  his  own  hand,  so  wrought  it  about, 
that  Christian  for  that  time  escaped  them,  and  went 
his  way. 

And  as  he  went  he  sang,  saving, 

Well,  Faithful,  thou  hast  faithfully  profest 
Unto  thy  Lord,  with  whom  thou  shalt  be  blest, 

Wheu  faithless  ones,  with  all  their  vain  delights, 

Are  crying  out  under  their  hellish  plights  : 

Sing,  Faithful,  sing,  and  let  thy  name  survive, 

For  though  they  killed  thee,  thou  art  yet  alive. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  went  not 

Christian  has  ano-  forth  alone;  for  there  was  one  whose 
ther  companion.  name  was  Hopeful.  (being  so  made  by 

the  beholding  of  Christian  and  Faithful  in  their  words 
and  behavior,  in  their  sufferings  at  the  fair,)  who  joined 


HOPEFUL  JOINS  CHRISTIAN.  125 

himself  unto  him,  and  entering  into  a  brotherly  cove¬ 
nant,  told  him  that  he  would  be  his  companion  Thus 
one  died  to  bear  testimony  to  the  truth,  and  another 
uses  out  of  his  ashes  to  be  a  companion  with  Chris¬ 
tian  in  his  pilgrimage.  This  Hopeful 
also  told  Christian,  that  there  were 
many  more  of  the  men  in  the  fair  that  fair  wil1  fol,ow‘ 
would  take  their  time  and  follow  after. 

So  I  saw,  that  quickly  after  they  were  got  out  of 
the  fair  they  overtook  one  that  was  go-  They  ovcrtake 
mg  neloie  them,  whose  name  was  By-  By-ends, 
ends;  so  they  said  to  him,  What  countryman,  -sir? 
and  how  far  go  you  this  way  ?  He  told  them,  that  ke 
came  from  the  town  of  Fair-speech,  and  he  was  going 
to  the  celestial  city ;  but  told  them  not  his  name. 

Fiom  Fair-speech?  said  Christian;  is  there  any 
good  that  lives  there  ?  Prov.  26  :  25. 

By.  \  es,  said  By-ends,  I  hope. 

Chr.  Pray,  sir,  what  may  I  call  you  ? 

By.  I  am  a  stranger  to  you,  and  you  to  me:  if  yon 
be  going  this  way,  I  shall  be  glad  of  By.cnds  ,oth  [0 
}our  company;  if  not,  I  must  be  tel1  his name- 
content. 

Chr.  This  town  of  Fair-speech.  I  have  heard  of 
it;  and,  as  I  remember,  they  say  it’s  a  wealthy  place. 

By.  Yes,  I  will  assure  you  that  it  is ;  and  I  have  very 
many  rich  kindred  there. 

Chr.  Pray  who  are  your  kindred  there,  if  a  man 
may  be  so  bold  ? 

By.  Almost  the  whole  town  ;  but  in  particular  my 
Lord  Turn-about,  my  Lord  Time-server,  my  Lord 
Fair-speech,  from  whose  ancestors  that  town  first  look 
its  name ;  also  Mr.  Smooth-man,  Mr.  Facing-both- 

ways,  Mr.  Any-thing;  and  the  parson  of  our  parish, 

1 1  * 


126 


DISCOURSE  WITH  BY-ENDS. 


Mr.  Two-tongues,  was  my  mother’s  own  brother,  by 
father’s  side ;  and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  become 
a  gentleman  of  good  quality;  yet  my  great  grand¬ 
father  was  but  a  waterman,  looking  one  way  and  row¬ 
ing  another,  and  I  got  most  of  my  estate  by  the  same 
occupation. 

Chr.  Are  you  a  married  man  ? 

By.  Yes,  and  my  wife  is  a  very  virtuous  woman, 

The  wife  and  kin-  the  daughter  of  a  virtuous  woman  ; 
dred  of  By-ends,  g^g  was  my  Lady  Feigning’s  daughter  ; 

therefore  she  came  of  a  very  honorable  family,  and 
is  arrived  to  such  a  pitch  of  breeding,  that  she  knows 
how  to  carry  it  to  all,  even  to  prince  and  peasant. 

Where  By-ends  ’Tis  true,  we  somewhat  differ  in  reli- 

differs  from  others  m0n  fr0m  those  of  the  stricter  sort, 
in  religion.  °  ....  .  , 

yet  but  in  two  small  points  ;  First,  we 
never  strive  against  wind  and  tide.  Secondly,  we  are 
always  most  zealous  when  Religion  goes  in  his  silver 
slippers ;  we  love  much  to  walk  with  him  in  the  street 
if  the  sun  shines  and  the  people  applaud  him. 

Then  Christian  stepped  a  little  aside  to  his  fellow 
Hopeful,  saying,  It  runs  in  r;*y  mind  that  this  is  one 
By-ends,  of  Fair-speech  ;  ?nd  if  it  be  he,  we  have  as 
very  a  knave  in  our  comp*  my  as  dwelleth  in  all  these 
parts.  Then  said  Hopef'd,  Ask  him;  methinks  he 
should  not  be  ashamed  of  his  name.  So  Christian 
came  up  with  him  again,  and  said,  Sir  you  talk  as  if 
you  knew  something  ir  ore  than  all  the  world  doth ; 
and,  if  I  take  not  my  mark  amiss,  I  deem  I  have  half 
a  guess  of  you.  Is  not  your  name  Mr.  By-Ends,  of 
Fair-speech  ? 

By.  This  is  not  my  name ;  but,  indeed,  it  is  a  nick¬ 
name  that  is  given  me  by  some  that  cannot  abide  me, 
and  I  must  be  content  to  bear  it  as  a  reproach,  as  other 
good  men  have  borne  theirs  before  me. 


DISCOURSE  WITH  BY-ENDS.  127 

Chr.  But  did  you  never  give  an  occasion  to  men  to 
call  upon  you  by  this  name  ? 

By.  Never,  never!  The  worst  that  ever  I  did  to 
give  them  occasion  to  give  me  this-  How  By-ends  got 
lame  was,  that  I  had  always  the  luck  his  liame- 
to  jump  in  my  judgment  with  the  present  way  of  the 
times,  whatever  it  was,  and  my  chance  was  to  get 
thereby  ;  but  if  things  are  thus  cast  upon  me,  let  me 
count  them  a  blessing  ;  but  let  not  the  malicious  load 
me,  therefore,  with  reproach. 

Chr.  I  thought,  indeed,  that  you  were  the  man  that 
I  heard  of ;  and  to  tell  you  what  I  think,  I  fear  this 
name  belongs  to  you  more  properly  than  you  are 
willing  we  should  think  it  doth. 

By.  Well,  if  you  will  thus  imagine,  He  desirM  ,o 
I  cannot  help  it :  you  shall  find  me  a  keep  company  with 
fair  company-keeper,  if  you  will  still  lr,s  ian‘ 
admit  me  your  associate. 

Chr.  If  you  will  go  with  us,  you  must  go  against 
wind  and  tide  ;  the  which,  I  perceive,  is  against  your 
opinion :  you  must  also  own  Religion  in  his  rags,  as 
well  as  when  in  his  silver  slippers ;  and  stand  by  him, 
too,  when  bound  in  irons,  as  well  as  when  he  walketh 
the  streets  with  applause. 

By.  You  must  not  impose,  nor  lord  it  over  my  faith  ; 
leave  me  to  my  liberty,  and  let  me  go  with  you. 

Chr.  Not  a  step  farther,  unless  you  will  do,  in  what 
I  propound,  as  we. 

Then  said  By-ends,  I  shall  never  desert  my  old 
principles,  since  they  are  harmless  and  profitable.  If 
I  may  not  gO  With  you,  I  must  do  as  I  By-ends  and  they 
did  before  you  overtook  me,  even  go  by  part> 
myself,  untill  some  overtake  me  that  will  be  glad  of 
my  company. 


128 


BY-ENDS  AND  THE  PILGRIMS  PART. 


Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  and  Hope¬ 
ful  forsook  him,  and  kept  their  distance  before  him  ; 
but  one  of  them,  looking  back,  saw  three  men  follow¬ 
ing  Mr.  By-ends ;  and,  behold,  as  they  came  up 
with  him,  he  made  them  a  very  low  congee ;  and 
they  also  gave  him  a  compliment.  The  men’s  names 

He  has  new  were,  Mr.  Ilold-the-world,  Mr.  Mo- 
comjumons.  ney-love,  and  Mr.  Save-all,  men  that 
Mr.  By-ends  had  formerly  been  acquainted  with, 
for  in  their  minority  they  were  schoolfellows,  and 
taught  by  one  Mr.  Gripe-man,  a  schoolmaster  in  Love- 
gain,  which  is  a  market-town  in  the  county  of  Covet¬ 
ing,  in  the  North.  This  schoolmaster  taught  them  the 
art  of  getting,  either  by  violence,  cozenage,  flattering, 
lying,  01  by  putting  on  a  guise  of  religion  ;  and  these 
foui  gentlemen  had  attained  much  of  the  art  of  their 
master,  so  that  they  could  each  of  them  have  kept 
such  a  school  themselves. 

Well,  when  they  had,  as  I  said,  thus  saluted  each 
other,  Mr.  Money-love  said  to  Mr.  By-ends.  Who 
are  they  upon  the  road  before  us  1  for  Christian  and 
Hopeful  were  yet  within  view. 

„  , ,  t  They  are  a  couple  of  far 

ter  of  the  pilgrims,  counti  ymeiij  thatj  after  tlieir  mode,  arc 
going  on  pilgrimage. 

Money.  Alas  !  why  did  not  they  stay,  that  we  might 
nave  had  their  good  company  ?  for  they,  and  w’e,  and 
you,  sir,  I  hope,  are  all  going  on  pilgrimage. 

By.  We  are  so  indeed  ;  but  the  men  before  us  are 
so  rigid,  and  love  so  much  their  own  notions,  and  do 
also  so  lightly  esteem  the  opinions  of  others,  that  let 
a  man  be  ever  so  godly,  yet  if  he  jumps  not  with  them 
in  all  things,  they  thrust  him  quite  out  of  their 
company. 


DISCOURSE  OF  BY-ENDS  AND  HIS  COMPANIONS.  129 

Save.  That  is  bad;  but  we  read  of  some  that  are 
righteous  overmuch,  and  such  men’s  rigidness  pre¬ 
vails  with  them  to  judge  and  condemn  all  but  them¬ 
selves.  But  I  pray,  what,  and  how  many,  were  the 
things  wherein  you  differed? 

By.  Why  they,  after  their  headstrong  manner,  con¬ 
clude  that  it  is  their  duty  to  rush  on  their  journey  all 
weathers;  and  I  am  for  waiting  for  wind  and  tide. 

hey  are  for  hazarding  all  for  God  at  a  clap  ;  and  I 
am  for  taking  all  advantages  to  secure  my  life  and 
estate.  They  are  for  holding  their  notions,  though 
all  othei  men  be  against  them  ;  but  I  am  for  religion 
in  what,  and  so  far  as,  the  times  and  my  safety  will 
beai  it.  The}/  are  for  Religion  when  in  rags  and  con¬ 
tempt  ;  but  I  am  for  him  when  he  walks  in  his  silver 
slippers,  in  the  sunshine,  and  with  applause. 

Hold-the-W  orld.  Ay,  and  hold  you  there  still, 
good  Mr.  By-ends  ;  for,  for  my  part,  I  can  count  him 
but  a  fool,  that  having  the  liberty  to  keep  what  he  has, 
shall  be  so  unwise  as  to  lose  it.  Let  us  be  wise  as  ser¬ 
pents.  It  is  best  to  make  hay  while  the  sun  shines. 
You  see  how  the  bee  lieth  still  all  winter,  and  bestirs 
her  only  when  she  can  have  profit  with  pleasure. 
God  sends  sometimes  rain,  and  sometimes  sunshine ; 
if  they  be  such  fools  to  go  through  the  first,  yet  let  us 
be  content  to  take  fair  weather  along  with  us.  For  my 
part,  I  like  that  religion  best  that  will  stand  with  the 
security  of  God’s  good  blessings  unto  us ;  for  who 
can  imagine,  that  is  ruled  by  his  reason,  since  God 
has  bestowed  upon  us  the  good  things  of  this  life,  but 
that  he  would  have  us  keep  them  for  his  sake?  Abra¬ 
ham  and  Solomon  grew  rich  in  religion;  and  Job 
says,  that  a  good  man  shall  lay  up  gold  as  dust ;  but 
he  must  not  be  such  as  the  men  before  us,  if  they  be 
as  you  have  described  them. 


130  DISCOURSE  OF  BY-ENDS  AND  HIS  COMPANIONS. 

Save.  I  think  that  we  are  all  agreed  in  this  matter; 
and  therefore  there  needs  no  more  words  about  it. 

Money.  No,  there  needs  no  more  words  about  this 
mallei  indeed ;  for  he  that  believes  neither  scripture 
nor  reason,  (and  you  see  we  have  both  on  our  side,) 

neither  knows  his  own  liberty  nor  seeks  his  own 
safety. 

By.  My  brethren,  we  are,  as  you  see,  going  all  on 
pilgi image;  and  for  our  better  diversion  from  things 
that  are  bad,  give  me  leave  to  propound  unto  you 
this  question. 

Suppose  a  man,  a  minister,  or  a  tradesman,  &c. 
should  have  an  advantage  lie  before  him  to  get  the 
good  blessings  of  this  life,  yet  so  as  that  he  can  by  no 
means  come  by  them,  except  in  appearance  at  least,  he 
becomes  extraordinary  zealous  in  some  points  of  re¬ 
ligion  that  he  meddled  not  with  before ;  may  he  not 
use  this  means  to  attain  his  end,  and  yet  be  a  right 
honest  man? 

Money.  I  see  the  bottom  of  your  question ;  ar.d 
with  these  gentlemen’s  good  leave,  I  will  endeavor 
to  shape  you  an  answer.  And  first,  to  speak  to  your 
question  as  it  concerneth  a  minister  himself:  suppose 
a  minister,  a  worthy  man,  possessed  but  of  a  veiy 
small  benefice,  and  has  in  his  eye  a  greater,  more  fit 
and  plump  by  far;  he  has  also  now  an  opportunity  of 
getting  it,  yet  so  as  by  being  more  studious,  by  preach¬ 
ing  more  frequently  and  zealously,  and,  because  the 
temper  of  the  people  requires  it,  by  altering  of  some 
of  lus  principles;  for  my  part,  J  see  no  reason  why  a 
man  may  not  do  this,  provided  he  has  a  call,  ay,  and 
moie  a  gieat  deal  besides,  and  yet  be  an  honest  man. 
For  why  ? 

1.  His  desire  of  a  greater  benefice  is  lawful,  (this 


discourse  of  by-ends  and  his  companions.  131 

cannot  be  contradicted,)  since  it  is  set  before  him  by 
Piovidence ;  so  then  he  may  get  it  if  he  can,  making 
no  question  for  conscience  sake. 

2.  Besides  his  desire  after  that  benefice  makes  him 
more  studious,  a  more  zealous  preacher,  &e.  and  so 
makes  him  a  better  man,  yea,  makes  him  better  im¬ 
prove  his  parts,  which  is  according  to  the  mind  of  God. 

3.  Now,  as  for  his  complying  with  the  temper  of 
his  people,  by  deserting,  to  serve  them,  some  of  his 
principles,  this  argueth,  1.  That  he  is  of  a  self-deny¬ 
ing  temper.  2.  Of  a  sweet  and  winning  deportment. 
And,  3.  So  more  fit  for  the  ministerial  function. 

4.  I  conclude,  then,  that  a  minister  that  changes  a 
small  for  a  great,  should  not,  for  so  doing,  be  judged 
as  covetous ;  but  rather,  since  he  is  improved  in  his 
parts  and  industry  thereby,  be  counted  as  one  that 

pursues  his  call,  and  the  opportunity  put  into  his  hand 
to  do  good. 

And  now  to  the  second  part  of  the  question,  which 
concerns  the  tradesman  you  mentioned.  Suppose 
such  an  one  to  have  but  a  poor  employ  in  the  world, 
but  by  becoming  religious,  he  may  mend  his  market, 
perhaps  get  a  rich  wife,  or  more  and  far  better  custo¬ 
mers  to  his  shop;  for  my  part,  I  see  no  reason  but  this 
may  be  lawfully  done.  For  why  ? 

1.  To  become  religious  is  a  virtue,  by  what  means 
soever  man  becomes  so. 

2.  Nor  is  it  unlawful  to  get  a  rich  wife,  or  more  cus- 
tom  to  my  shop. 

3.  Besides,  the  man  that  gets  these  by  becoming 
religious,  gets  that  which  is  good  of  them  that  are 
good,  by  becoming  good  himself;  so  then  here  is  a 
good  wife,  and  good  customers,  and  good  gain,  and 
all  these  by  becoming  religious,  which  is  good; 


32  DISCOURSE  OF  BY-ENDS  AND  HI3  COMPANIONS, 

therefore,  to  become  religious  to  get  all  these  is  a  good 
and  profitable  design. 

This  answer  thus  made  by  Mr.  Money-love  to  Mr. 
By-ends’  question  was  highly  applauded  by  them  all ; 
wherefore  they  concluded  upon  the  whole,  that  it  was 
most  wholesome  and  advantageous.  And  because,  as 
they  thought,  no  man  was  able  to  contradict  it,  and 
because  Christian  and  Hopeful  were  yet  within  call, 
they  jointly  agreed  to  assault  them  with  the  question 
as  soon  as  they  overtook  them ;  and  the  rather,  be¬ 
cause  they  had  opposed  Mr.  By-ends  before.  So  they 
called  after  them,  and  they  stopped  and  stood  still 
till  they  came  up  to  them  ;  but  they  concluded  as  they 
went,  that  not  Mr.  By-ends,  but  old  Mr.  Hold-the- 
World,  should  propound  the  question  to  them,  because, 
as  they  supposed,  their  answer  to  him  would  be  with¬ 
out  the  remainder  of  that  heat  that  was  kindled  betwixt 
Mr.  By-ends  and  them  at  their  parting  a  little  before. 

So  they  came  up  to  each  other,  and  after  a  short 
salutation,  Mr.  Hold- the- World  propounded  the  ques¬ 
tion  to  Christian  and  his  fellow,  and  bid  them  to  an¬ 
swer  it  if  they  could. 

Then  said  Christian,  Even  a  babe  in  religion  may 
answer  ten  thousand  such  questions.  For  if  it  be  un¬ 
lawful  to  follow  Christ  for  loaves,  as  it  is,  John,  6 :  26 ; 
now  much  more  abominable  is  it  to  make  of  him  and 
religion  a  stalking-horse  to  get  and  enjoy  the  world  ! 
Nor  do  we  find  any  other  than  heathens,  hypocrites, 
devils,  and  wizards,  that  are  of  this  opinion. 

1.  Heathens:  for  when  Hamor  and  Shechem  had 
a  mind  to  the  daughter  and  cattle  of  Jacob,  and  saw 
that  there  was  no  way  for  them  to  come  at  them  blit 
by  becoming  circumcised,  they  said  to  their  compan¬ 
ions,  If  every  male  of  us  be  circumcised,  as  they  are 


Christian’s  answer  to  mr.  uold-the-world.  133 

circumcised,  shall  not  their  cattle,  and  their  substance, 
and  every  beast  of  theirs  be  ours  ?  Their  daughters 
and  their  cattle  were  that  which  they  sought  to  obtain, 
and  their  religion  the  stalking-horse  they  made  use  of  to 
come  at  them.  Read  the  whole  story,  Gen.  34 :  20—24. 

2.  The  hypocritical  Pharisees  were  also  of  this 
religion:  long  prayers  were  their  pretence;  but  to 
get  widows’  houses  was  their  intent,  and  greater  dam¬ 
nation  was  from  God  their  judgment,  Luke,  20 :  40, 47. 

3.  Judas  the  devil  was  also  of  this  religion:  he  was 
religious  for  the  bag,  that  he  might  be  possessed  of 
what  was  put  therein ;  but  he  was  lost,  cast  away,  and 
the  very  son  of  perdition. 

4.  Simon  the  wizard  was  of  this  religion  too ;  for 
lie  would  have  had  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  he  might 
have  got  money  therewith:  and  his  sentence  from 
Peter’s  mouth  was  according,  Acts,  8 :  19—22. 

5.  Neither  will  it  go  out  of  my  mind,  but  that  that 
man  who  takes  up  religion  for  the  world,  will  throw 
away  religion  for  the  world;  for  so  surely  as  Judas 
designed  the  world  in  becoming  religious,  so  surely 
did  he  also  sell  religion  and  his  Master  for  the  same. 
To  answer  the  question,  therefore,  affirmatively,  as  I 
perceive  you  have  done,  and  to  accept  of,  as  authentic, 
such  answer,  is  heathenish,  hypocritical,  and  devilish  ; 
and  your  reward  will  be  according  to  your  works. 

Then  they  stood  staring  one  upon  another,  but  had 
not  wherewith  to  answer  Christian.  Hopeful  also 
approved  of  the  soundness  of  Christian’s  answer ;  so 
there  was  a  great  silence  among  them.  Mr.  By-ends 
and  his  company  also  staggered,  and  kept  behind,  that 
Christian  and  Hopeful  might  outgo  them.  Then  said 
Christian  to  his  fellow,  If  these  men  cannot  stand 
before  the  sentence  of  men,  what  will  they  do  with 

12 


134 


THE  PLAIN  OF  EASE.  LUCRE-HILL. 


the  sentence  of  God?  And  if  they  are  mute  when 
dealt  with  by  vessels  of  clay,  what  will  they  do  when 
they  shall  be  rebuked  by  the  flames  of  a  devouring 
fire  ? 

Then  Christian  and  Hopeful  outwent  them  again, 

mi  ,  and  went  till  they  came  at  a  delicate 

pilgrims  have  is  but  plain,  called  Ease,  where  they  went 
httieni tlUi  l,le'  With  much  content ;  but  that  plain  was 
but  narrow,  so  they  were  quickly  got  over  it.  Now 
at  the  farther  side  of  that  plain  was  a  little  hill,  called 


Lucre,  and  in  that  hill  a  silver  mine,  which  some  of 
them  that  had  formerly  gone  that  way,  because  of  the 
rarity  of  it,  had  turned  aside  to  see :  but  going  too 

Lucre-hill,  a  dan- near  the  brim  of  the  pit,  the  ground, 
gerous  hill.  being  deceitful  under  them,  broke,  and 
they  were  slain :  some  also  had  been  maimed  there, 
and  could  not,  to  their  dying  day,  be  their  own  men 
again. 


Demas  at  the  bill  Then  1  saw  in  mY  dream,  that  a  little 
Lucre.  off  r0ad,  over  against  the  silver 

mine,  stood  Demas  (gentleman-like)  to  call  to  passen- 

He  call.  toChris-  Sers  ‘o  ™me  and  see;  who  said  to 
tian  and  Hopeful  Christian  and  his  fellow,  Ho  !  turn  aside 
to  come  to  him.  j^er,  an(j  j  will  show  you  a  thing. 

Chr.  What  thing  so  deserving  as  to  turn  us  out 
of  the  way  ? 

Demas.  Here  is  a  silver  mine,  and  some  digging  m 
it  for  treasure;  if  you  will  come,  with  a  little  pains 
you  may  richly  provide  for  yourselves. 

„  , .  ,  .  .  Hope.  Then  said  Hopeful,  Let  us 

Hopeful  tempted  r  1 

to  go,  but  Chris-  go  See. 

•ian  holds  him  back.  ^  N()t  j  ^  Christian  .  I  have 

heard  of  this  place  before  now.  and  how  many  have 
there  been  slain  ;  and,  besides,  that  treasure  is  a  snare 


DEMAS  INVITES  THE  PILGRIMS  TO  TURN  ASIDE.  135 

to  those  that  seek  it,  for  it  hindereth  them  in  their 
pilgrimage. 

Then  Christian  called  to  Demas,  saying,  Is  not  the 
place  dangerous  ?  Hath  it  not  hindered  many  in  their 
pilgrimage?  Hosea,  4:  16—19. 

Demas.  Not  very  dangerous,  except  to  those  that 
aie  caieless ;  but  withal,  he  blushed  as  he  spake. 

Cur.  1  hen  said  Christian  to  Hopeful,  Let  us  not 
stir  a  step,  but  still  keep  on  our  way. 

Hope.  I  will  warrant  you,  when  By-ends  comes  up, 
if  he  hath  the  same  invitation  as  we,  he  will  turn  in 
thither  to  see. 

Chr.  No  doubt  thereof,  for  his  principles  lead  him 
that  way,  and  a  hundred  to  one  but  he  dies  there. 

Demas.  Then  Demas  called  again,  saying,  but  will 
you  not  come  over  and  see  ? 

Chr.  Then  Christian  roundly  answered,  saying,  De¬ 
mas, thou  art  an  enemy  to  the  right  ways  of  the  Lord  of 
this  way,  and  hast  been  already  condemned  for  thine 
own  turning  aside,  by  one  of  his  Majesty’s  judges,  2 
Tim.  4  :  10 ;  and  why  seekest  thou  to  bring  us  into  the 
like  condemnation  ?  Besides,  if  wre  at  all  turn  aside, 
our  Lord  the  King  will  certainly  hear  thereof,  and 
will  there  put  us  to  shame,  where  we  would  stand 
with  boldness  before  him. 

Demas  cried  again,  that  he  also  was  one  of  their 
fraternity ;  and  that  if  they  would  tarry  a  little  he 
also  himself  would  walk  with  them. 

Cun.  Then  said  Christian,  What  is  thy  name  ?  Is  it 
not  the  same  by  the  which  I  have  called  thee? 

Demas.  Yes,  my  name  is  Demas;  I  am  the  son  of 
Abraham. 

Chr.  I  know  you ;  Gehazi  was  your  great  grand¬ 
father,  and  Judas  your  father,  and  you  have  trod  in 


136 


BY-END  GOES  OVER  TO  DEMAS. 

theii  steps;  it  is  but  a  devilish  prank  that  thou  usest, 
thy  father  was  hanged  for  a  traitor,  and  thou  deserv- 
est  no  better  reward,  2  Kings,  5 :  20—27  ;  Matt.  26  : 
14,  15;  2/  :  3  5.  Assure  thyself,  that  when  we 
come  to  the  King,  we  will  tell  him  of  this  thy  beha¬ 
vior.  Thus  they  went  their  way. 

B\  this  time  By-ends  and  his  companions  were 

By-ends  goes  over  come  again  within  sight,  and  they  at 
to  Demas.  xx  .  u  i  ,  _  J 

the  first  beck  went  over  to  Demas. 
Now,  whether  they  fell  into  the  pit  by  looking  over 
the  brink  thereof,  or  whether  they  went  down  to  dig, 
or  whether  they  were  smothered  in  the  bottom  by  the 
damps  that  commonly  arise,  of  these  things  I  am  not 
certain ;  but  this  I  observed,  that  they  were  never 
seen  again  in  the  way.  Then  sang  Christian : 

By-ends  and  silver  Demas  both  agree  ; 

One  calls,  tlie  other  runs,  that  he  may  be 
A  sharer  in  his  lucre  :  so  these  two 
Take  up  in  this  world,  and  no  farther  go. 

Now  I  saw  that,  just  on  the  other  side  of  this  plain, 
They  see  a  strange  the  pilgrims  came  to  a  place  where 
monument.  stood  an  old  monument  hard  by  the 
highway-side,  at  the  sight  of  which  they  were  both 
concerned,  because  of  the  strangeness  of  the  form 
thereof ;  for  it  seemed  to  them  as  if  it  had  been  a 
woman  transformed  into  the  shape  of  a  pillar.  Here, 
therefore,  they  stood  looking  and  looking  upon  it,  but 
could  not  for  a  time  tell  what  they  should  make  there¬ 
of.  At  last  Hopeful  espied,  written  above  upon  the 
head  thereof,  a  writing  in  an  unusual  hand;  but  he 
being  no  scholar,  called  to  Christian  (for  he  was 
learned)  to  see  if  he  could  pick  out  the  meaning:  so 
he  came,  and  after  a  little  laying  of  letters  together,  he 
found  the  same  to  be  this,  “  Remember  Lot’s  wife.” 


THE  PILLAR  INSCRIBED,  “  REMEMBER  LOT’S  WIFE.  137 

So  he  read  it  to  his  fellow ;  after  which  thev  both 
concluded  that  that  was  the  pillar  of  salt  into  which 
Lot’s  wife  was  turned,  for  her  looking  back  with  a 
covetous  heart  when  she  was  going  from  Sodom, 
Gen.  19  :  26.  Which  sudden  and  amazing  sight  gave 
them  occasion  of  this  discourse. 

Chr.  Ah,  my  brother  !  this  is  a  seasonable  sight,  it 
came  opportunely  to  us  after  the  invitation  which 
Demas  gave  us  to  come  over  to  view  the  hill  Lucre ; 
and  had  we  gone  over,  as  he  desired  us,  and  as  thou 
wast  inclined  to  do,  my  brother,  we  had,  for  aught  I 
know,  been  made  ourselves  a  spectacle  for  those  that 
shall  come  after,  to  behold. 

Hope.  I  am  sorry  that  I  was  so  foolish,  and  made  to 
wonder  that  I  am  not  now  as  Lot’s  wife;  for  wherein 
was  the  difference  betwixt  her  sin  and  mine?  She 
only  looked  back,  and  I  had  a  desire  to  go  see.  Let 
giace  be  adored ;  and  let  me  be  ashamed  that  ever 
such  a  tiling  should  be  in  mine  heart. 

Chr.  Let  us  take  notice  of  what  we  see  here,  for 
our  help  for  time  to  come.  This  woman  escaped  one 
judgment,  for  she  fell  not  by  the  destruction  of  So¬ 
dom ;  yet  she  was  destroyed  by  another,  as  we  see- 
she  is  turned  into  a  pillar  of  salt. 

Hope,  line,  and  she  may  be  to  us  both  caution  and 
example;  caution,  that  we  should  shun  her  sin,  ora 
sign  of  what  judgment  will  overtake  such  as  shall  not 
be  prevented  by  this  caution;  so  Korah,  Dathan,  and 
Abiiam,  with  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  men  that  oe- 
lished  in  their  sin,  did  also  become  a  sign  or  example 
to  others  to  beware,  Numb.  16  :  31,  32;  26  :  9,  10.  But 
above  all,  I  muse  at  one  thing,  to  wit,  how  Demas  and 
Ins  fellows  can  stand  so  confidently  yonder  to  look  for 
that  treasure,  which  this  woman  but  for  looking  behind 


138 


DISCOURSE  AEOUT  LOT’S  WIFE. 


her  after  (for  we  read  not  that  she  stepped  one  foot 
out  of  the  .way)  w*as  turned  into  a  pillar  of  salt;  espe¬ 
cially  since  the  judgment  which  overtook  her  did  but 
make  her  an  example  within  sight  of  where  they  are ; 
for  they  cannot  choose  but  see  her,  did  they  but  lift  up 
their  eyes. 

Chr.  It  is  a  thing  to  be  wondered  at,  and  it  argueth 
that  their  hearts  are  grown  desperate  in  the  case;  and 
I  cannot  tell  who  to  compare  them  to  so  fitly,  as  to 
them  that  pick  pockets  in  the  presence  of  the  judge,  or 
that  will  cut  purses  under  the  gallows.  It  is  said  of  the 
men  of  Sodom,  that  they  were  sinners  exceedingly, 
because  they  were  sinners  “  before  the  Lord,”  that  is, 
in  his  eye-sight  and  notwithstanding  the  kindnesses 
that  he  had  showed  them ;  for  the  land  of  Sodom  was 
now  like  the  garden  of  Eden  heretofore,  Gen.  13  :  10— 
13.  This,  therefore,  provoked  him  the  more  to  jealousy, 
and  made  their  plague  as  hot  as  the  fire  of  the  Lord 
out  of  heaven  could  make  it.  And  it  is  most  rationally 
to  be  concluded,  that  such,  even  such  as  these  are, 
that  shall  sin  in  the  sight,  yea,  and  that  too  in  despite 
of  such  examples  that  are  set  continually  before  them 
to  caution  them  to  the  contrary,  must  be  partakers  of 
severest  judgments. 

Hope.  Doubtless  thou  hast  said  the  truth ;  but  what 
a  mercy  is  it  that  neither  thou,  but  especially  I,  am  not 
made  myself  this  example !  This  ministereth  occasion 
to  us  to  thank  God,  to  fear  before  him,  and  always  to 
remember  Lot’s  wife. 

I  saw  then  that  they  went  on  their  way  to  a  plea 

a  river.  sant  river’  which  David  th e  king  called 
“  the  river  of  God ;”  but  John,  “  the  river 
of  the  water  of  life,”  Psalm  65  :9;  Rev.  22:1;  Ezek. 
47 ;  1—9.  Now  their  way  lay  just  upon  the  bank  of 


THE  RIVER  OF  LIFE.  THE  PLEASANT  MEADOW.  139 

this  river:  here,  therefore,  Christian  and  his  companion 

walked  with  great  delight ;  they  drank  also  of  the  wa¬ 
ter  of  the  river,  which  was  pleasant  and  enlivening  to 
their  weary  spirits.  Besides,  on  the 
banks  of  this  river,  on  either  side,  were  Trces  by  thc  river- 
gieen  trees  with  all  manner  of  fruit;  and  the  leaves 
they  ate  to  prevent  surfeits,  and  other  The  fruit  anJ 
diseases  that  are  incident  to  those  that  ,eav'esofthe  u-ees. 
heat  their  blood  by  travel.  On  either  side  of  the  river 
was  also  a  meadow,  curiously  beautified  with  lilies; 
and  it  was  green  all  the  year  long.  In 
this  meadow  they  lay  down  and  slept,  which  they  lie 
for  here  they  might  lie  down  safely,  down  10 sluci>- 
Psalm  23  :  2 ;  Isa.  14  :  30.  When  they  awoke,  they 
gathered  again  of  the  fruit  of  the  trees,  and  drank  again 
of  the  water  of  the  river,  and  then  lay  down  again  to 
sleep.  Thus  they  did  several  days  and  nights.  °  Then 
ihey  sang. 

Beholo  ye  how  these  crystal  streams  do  glide, 

To  comfort  pilgrims  by  the  highway-side. 

1  lie  meadows  grec!i,  besides  their  fragrant  smell, 

Yield  dainties  for  them;  and  he  who  can  tell 
What  pleasant  fruit,  yea,  leaves,  these  trees  do  yield, 

Will  soon  sell  all,  that  he  mav  buy  this  field. 

So  when  tney  were  disposed  to  go  on,  (for  they 
were  not  as  yet  at  their  journey’s  end,)  they  ate,  and 
drank,  and  departed. 

Now  I  beheld  in  my  dream,  that  they  had  not  jour¬ 
neyed  far,  but  the  river  and  the  way  for  a  time  parted, 
at  which  they  were  not  a  little  sorry;  yet  they  durst 
not  go  out  of  the  way.  Now  the  way  from  thc  river 
was  rough,  and  their  feet  tender  by  reason  of  their 
travels;  so  the  souls  of  thc  pilgrims  were  much  dis¬ 
couraged  because  of  the  way,  Numb.  21  :  4.  Wh~ ' 


140  THE  PILCRIMS  GO  INTO  BY-PATH  MEADOW. 


fore  still  as  they  went  on,  they  wished 

By-path  meadow.  .  ,  ....  ..  .  ,  - 

for  a  better  way.  Now  a  little  before 
them,  there  was  on  the  left  hand  of  the  road  a  meadow 
and  a  stile  to  go  over  into  it,  and  that  meadow  is 
called  By-path  meadow.  Then  said  Christian  to  his 
fellow,  If  this  meadow  lieth  along  by  our  way-side, 
let’s  go  over  into  it.  Then  he  went  to  the  stile  to  see, 

One  temptation  aild  behold  a  Path  laY  al°nS  by  the  Way 
makes  way  tor  ano-  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence.  It  is  ac- 

tlicf* 

cording  to  my  wish,  said  Christian ;  here 
is  the  easiest  going ;  come,  good  Hopeful,  and  let  us 
go  over. 

Hope.  But,  how  if  this  path  should  lead  us  out  of 
the  way  ? 

Chr.  That  is  not  likely,  said  the  other.  Look,  doth 
Strong  Christians  it  not  go  along  by  the  way-side  ?  So 
ones  out*1  0fV  tile  Hopeful,  being  persuaded  by  his  fellow, 
way.  went  after  him  over  the  stile.  When 

they  were  gone  over,  and  were  got  into  the  path,  they 
found  it  very  easy  for  their  feet;  and  withall,  they, 
looking  before  them,  espied  a  man  walking  as  they 
did,  and  his  name  was  Vain  Confidence  :  so  they  called 

Spe  whatitistoo  afler  him,  and  asked  him  whither  that 
suddenly  to  fail  in  wav  led.  He  said,  To  the  celestial  gate. 

with  strangers.  T  .  .  .  ...  _  ° 

Look,  said  Christian,  did  not  I  tell  you 
so?  by  this  you  may  see  we  are  right.  So  they  fol¬ 
lowed,  and  he  went  before  them.  But  behold  the  night 
came  on,  and  it  grew  very  dark ;  so  that  they  that 
were  behind  lost  the  sight  of  him  that  went  before. 

He  therefore  that  went  before,  ( Vain-Confidence  by 
a  pit  to  catch  the  name,)  not  seeing  the  way  before  him, 
vain-glorious  m.  fep  jn|0  a  ^cp  pit,  which  was  on  pur¬ 
pose  there  made,  by  the  prince  of  those  grounds,  to 
catch  vain-glorious  fools  withall,  and  was  dashed  in 
pieces  with  his  fall,  Isaiah,  9  :  16. 


THE  SAD  SITUATION  OF  THE  PILGRIMS.  141 

Now  Christian  and  his  fellow  heard  him  fall.  So 
they  called  to  know  the  matter,  but  there  was  none  to 
answer,  only  they  heard  a  groaning.  Then  said  Hope¬ 
ful,  Where  are  we  now  ?  Then  was  his  fellow  silent, 
as  mistrusting  that  he  had  led  him  out  of  the  way ; 
and  now  it  began  to  rain,  and  thunder  and  lighten  in  a 
most  dreadful  manner,  and  the  water  rose  amain. 

Then  Hopeful  groaned  in  himself,  Reasoning  be- 

,  T  i  .  ,  .  tween  Christian 

saying,  Oh  that  1  had  kept  on  my  way !  ami  Hopeful. 

Chr.  Who  could  have  thought  that  this  path  should 
have  led  us  out  of  the  way  ? 

Hope.  I  was  afraid  on’t  at  the  very  first,  and  there¬ 
fore  gave  you  that  gentle  caution.  I  would  have 
spoke  plainer,  but  that  you  are  older  than  I. 

Chr.  Good  brother,  be  not  offended  :  I 
am  sorry  I  have  brought  thee  out  of  the  pcntancc  for  lead¬ 
way,  and  that  I  have  put  thee  into  such  o7tKay.her  °Ut 
imminent  danger.  Pray,  my  brother, 
forgive  me;  I  did  not  do  it  of  an  evil  intent. 

Hope.  Be  comforted,  my  brother,  for  I  forgive  thee; 
and  believe,  too,  that  this  shall  be  for  our  good. 

Chr.  I  am  glad  I  have  with  me  a  merciful  brother  j 
but  we  must  not  stand  here  ;  let  us  try  to  go  back  again. 

Hope.  But,  good  brother,  let  me  go  before. 

Chr.  No,  if  you  please,  let  me  go  first,  that  if  there 
be  any  danger,  I  may  be  first  therein,  because  by  my 
means  we  are  both  gone  out  of  the  way. 

Hope.  No,  said  Hopeful,  you  shall  not  go  first,  for 
your  mind  being  troubled,  may  lead  you  out  of  the 
way  again.  Then  for  their  encouragement  they 
heard  the  voice  of  one  saying,  “  Let  thine  heart  be 
toward  the  highway,  even  the  way  that  thou  wentest; 
turn  again,”  Jer.  31 :  21.  But  by  this  .  , 

,  ,  .  J  They  are  in  dan- 

time  the  waters  were  greatly  risen,  by  per  of  drowning  a* 
reason  of  which  the  way  of  going  back  t!,ey  s°  back* 


142 


GIANT  DESPAIR  CONFINES  THEM. 


was  very  dangerous.  (Then  I  thought  that  it  is  easier 
going  out  of  the  way  when  we  are  in,  than  going  in 
when  we  are  out.)  Yet  they  adventured  to  go  back; 
but  it  was  so  dark,  and  the  flood  was  so  high,  that  in 
their  going  back  they  had  like  to  have  drowned  nine 
or  ten  times. 

Neither  could  they,  with  all  the  skill  they  had,  get 
again  to  the  stile  that  night.  Wherefore  at  last,  light- 
Tliey  s]ecp  in  ing  under  a  little  shelter,  they  sat  down 
the  grounds  of  Gi- there  until  the  day  brake;  but,  being 
aut  Deopan.  weary,  they  fell  asleep.  Now  there 

was,  not  far  from  the  place  they  lay,  a  castle,  called 
Doubting-Castle,  the  owner  whereof  was  Giant  Des¬ 
pair,  and  it  was  in  his  grounds  they  now  were  sleep¬ 
ing:  wherefore  he,  getting  up  in  the  morning  early, 
and  walking  up  and  down  in  his  fields,  caught  Chris¬ 
tian  and  Hopeful  asleep  in  his  grounds.  Then  with 
a  grim  and  surly  voice  he  bid  them  awake,  and  asked 
them  whence  they  were,  and  what  they  did  in  his 
grounds.  They  told  him  they  were  pilgrims,  and 
that  they  had  lost  their  way.  Then  said  the  giant, 

You  have  this  night  trespassed  on  me 

his 1  ground^, ei1£uid  by  trampling  in  and  lying  on  my 
nan-ies  them  to  grounds,  and  therefore  you  must  go 

Doubtiug-castle.  5  ’  J  ® 

along  with  me.  So  they  were  forced  to 
go,  because  he  was  stronger  than  they.  They  also 
had  but  little  to  say,  for  they  knew  themselves  in  a 
fault.  The  giant,  therefore,  drove  them  before  him, 
and  put  them  into  his  castle,  into  a  very  dark  dungeon, 

The  grievousness  nasty,  and  stinking  to  the  spirits  of  these 
of  their  imprison-  |W0  men.  Here,  then,  they  lay  from 

Wednesday  morning  till  Saturday 
night,  without  one  bit  of  bread  or  drop  of  drink,  or 
light,  or  any  to  ask  how  they  did :  they  were,  there- 


GIANT  DESPAIR’S  DREADFUL  TREATMENT. 


143 


fore,  here  in  evil  case,  and  were  far  from  friends  and 
acquaintance,  Psalm  88  :  18.  Now  in  this  place  Chris¬ 
tian  had  double  sorrow,  because  it  was  through  his 
unadvised  counsel  that  they  were  brought  into  this 
distress. 

Now  Giant  Despair  had  a  wife,  and  her  name  was 
Diffidence:  so  when  he  was  gone  to  bed  he  told  his 
wife  what  he  had  done,  to  wit,  that  he  had  taken  a 
couple  of  prisoners,  and  cast  them  into  his  dungeon 
for  trespassing  on  his  grounds.  Then  he  asked  her 
also  what  he  had  best  to  do  further  with  them.  So 
she  asked  him  what  they  were,  whence  they  came, 
and  whither  they  were  bound,  and  he  told  her.  Then 
she  counselled  him,  that  when  he  arose  in  the  morning 
he  should  beat  them  without  mercy.  So  when  he 
arose,  he  getteth  him  a  grievous  crabtree  cudgel,  and 
goes  down  into  the  dungeon  to  them,  and  there  first 
falls  to  rateing  of  them  as  if  they  were  dogs,  although 
they  never  gave  him  a  word  of  distaste.  Then  he 
falls  upon  them,  and  beats  them  fear- 

-  On  Thursday  Gi- 

fully,  in  such  sort  that  they  were  not  ant  Despair  beats 
able  to  help  themselves,  or  to  turn  them  hls  i)n,10uens* 
upon  the  floor.  This  done,  he  withdraws  and  leaves 
them  there  to  condole  their  misery,  and  to  mourn 
under  their  distress :  so  all  that  day  they  spent  their 
time  in  nothing  but  sighs  and  bitter  lamentations. 
The  next  night  she,  talking  with  her  husband  further 
about  them,  and  understanding  that  they  were  yet 
alive,  did  advise  him  to  counsel  them  to  make  away 
with  themselves.  So  when  morning  on  Friday  Giant 
was  come,  he  goes  to  them  in  a  surly  Uucai,air ,  counsels 

7  0  J  thorn  to  kill  them- 

manner,  as  before,  and  perceiving  them  solves. 

to  be  very  sore  with  the  stripes  that  he  had  given 

them  the  day  before,  he  told  them,  that  since  they 


144  THE  PILGRIMS  DISCOURSE  IN  THE  DUNGEON# 

were  never  like  to  come  out  of  that  piace,  their  only 
way  would  be  forthwith  to  make  an  end  of  them¬ 
selves,  either  with  knife,  halter,  or  poison :  for  why, 
said  he,  should  you  choose  to  live,  seeing  it  is  attended 
with  so  much  bitterness  ?  But  they  desired  him  to  let 
them  go.  With  that  he  looked  ugly  upon  them,  and 
rushing  to  them,  had  doubtless  made  an  end  of  them 
himself,  but  that  he  fell  into  one  of  his  fits,  (for  he 
The  giant  some-  sometimes  iii  sunshiny  weather  fell 

times  has  fits.  jnto  fits,)  and  lost  for  a  tjme  tpe  uge  Qf 

his  hands ;  wherefore  he  withdrew,  and  left  them 
as  before  to  consider  what  to  do.  Then  did  the  pri¬ 
soners  consult  between  themselves,  whether  it  was 
best  to  take  his  counsel  or  no ;  and  thus  they  began 
to  discourse : 

Chr.  Brother,  said  Christian,  what  shall  we  do  ? 
The  life  that  we  now  live  is  miserable.  For  my  part, 
I  know  not  whether  is  best  to  live  thus,  or  to  die  out 

Christian  crushcJ.  of  l*au'i  souI  chooseth  strangling 

rather  than  life,  and  the  grave  is  more 

easy  for  me  than  this  dungeon,  Job,  7 :  15.  Shall  we 
be  ruled  by  the  giant  ? 

Hope.  Indeed  our  present  condition  is  dreadful,  and 
death  would  be  far  more  welcome  to  me  than  thus  for 
ever  to  abide ;  but  yet  let  us  consider,  the  Lord  of  the 
country  to  which  we  are  going  hath  said,  “Thou 
shalt  do  no  murder,”  no,  not  to  another  man’s  person  • 
much  more  then  are  we  forbidden  to  take  his  counsel 
to  kill  ourselves.  Besides,  he  that  kills  another,  can 
outcommit.  murder  upon  his  body  ;  but  fo»’  one  to  kill 
himself,  is  to  kill  body  and  soul  at  once.  And,  more¬ 
over,  my  brother,  thou  talkest  of  ease  in  the  grave; 

Hopeful  com-  but  hast  thou  forgotten  the  hell  whi- 
t-n's  Mm.  ther  for  certain  the  murderers  go  ?  for 


The  Pilgrims  in  the  Dungeon  of  Giant  Despair.  p.  145. 


THE  PILGRIMS  DISCOURSE  IN  THE  DUNGEON.  143 

l<  no  murderer  hath  eternal  life,”  &c.  And  let  us  con¬ 
sider  again,  that  all  the  law  is  not  in  the  hand  of  Giant 
Despair;  others,  so  far  as  I  can  understand,  have  been 
taken  by  him  as  well  as  we,  and  yet  have  escaped  out 
of  his  hands.  Who  knows  but  that  God,  who  made 
the  world,  may  cause  that  Giant  Despair  may  die ;  or 
that  at  some  time  or  other  he  may  forget  to  lock  us  in  ; 
or  but  h'3  may,  in  a  short  time,  have  another  of  his  fits 
before  us,  and  he  may  lose  the  use  of  his  limbs  ?  And 
if  ever  that  should  come  to  pass  again,  for  my  part,  I 
am  resolved  to  pluck  up  the  heart  of  a  man,  and  to 
try  rny  utmost  to  get  from  under  his  hand.  I  was  a 
loo7,  that  I  did  not  try  to  do  it  before.  But,  however, 
iny  brother,  let  us  be  patient,  and  endure  a  while  ;  the 
time  may  come  that  may  give  us  a  happy  release  ;  but 
let  us  not  be  our  own  murderers.  With  these  words 
Hopeful  at  present  did  moderate  the  mind  of  his  bro¬ 
ther  ;  so  they  continued  together  in  the  dark  that  day, 
in  their  sad  and  doleful  condition. 

Well,  toward  evening  the  giant  goes  down  into  the 
dungeon  again,  to  see  if  his  prisoners  had  taken  his 
counsel.  But  when  he  came  there  he  found  them 
alive;  and  truly,  alive  was  all;  for  now,  what  for 
want  of  bread  and  water,  and  by  reason  of  the  wounds 
they  received  when  he  beat  them,  they  could  do  little 
but  breathe.  But  I  say,  he  found  them  alive;  at 
which  he  fell  into  a  grievous  rage,  and  told  them,  that 
seeing  they  had  disobeyed  his  counsel,  it  should  be 
worse  with  them  than  if  they  had  never  been  born. 

At  this  they  trembled  greatly,  and  I  think  that 
Christian  fell  into  a  swoon ;  but  coining  a  little  to 
himself  again,  they  renewed  their  discourse  about  the 
giant’s  counsel,  and  whether  yet  they  had  best  take  it 

13 


146  COUNSEL  OF  DIFFIDENCE,  THE  GIANT’S  WIFE, 


or  no.  Now  Christian  again  seemed  for  doing  it  j  but 
Hopeful  made  his  second  reply  as  followeth  . 

Hope.  My  brother,  said  he,  rememberest  thou  not 

Hopeful  comfort,  f|owJaliant  thou  hast  been  heretofore? 
him  again  by  call-  Apollyon  could  not  crush  thee,  nor 

to0remembrance.gs  cou^  that  thou  didst  hear,  or  see,  or 
feel,  in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Heath.  What  hardship,  terror,  and  amazement  hast  { 
thou  already  gone  through  !  and  art  thou  now  no¬ 
thing  but  fears !  Thou  seest  that  I  am  in  the  dungeon 
with  thee,  a  far  weaker  man  by  nature  than  thou  art. 
Also  this  giant  hath  wounded  me  as  well  as  thee,  and 
also  cut  off  the  bread  and  water  from  my  mouth,  and 
with  thee  I  mourn  without  the  light.  But  let  us  exer¬ 
cise  a  little  more  patience.  Remember  how  thou 
playedst  the  man  at  Vanity-Fair,  and  wast  neither 
afraid  of  the  chain  nor  cage,  nor  yet  of  bloody  death  : 
wherefore  let  us  (at  least  to  avoid  the  shame  that  it 
becomes  not  a  Christian  to  be  found  in)  bear  up  with 
patience  as  well  as  we  can. 


f 


Now  night  being  come  again,  and  the  giant  and  his 
wife  being  in  bed,  she  asked  him  concerning  the 
prisoners,  and  if  they  had  taken  his  counsel :  to  which 
he  replied,  They  are  sturdy  rogues;  they  choose 
rather  to  bear  all  hardships  than  to  make  away  with 
themselves.  Then  said  she,  Take  them  into  the  castle- 
yard  to-morrow,  and  show  them  the  bones  and  skulls 
of  those  that  thou  hast  already  dispatched,  and  make 
them  believe,  ere  a  week  comes  to  an  end,  thou  wilt 
teat  them  in  pieces,  as  thou  hast  done  their  fellows 
before  them. 


*  w^en  the  morning  was  come,  the  giant  goes 
to  them  again,  and  takes  them  into  the  castle-yard, 
and  shows  them  as  his  wife  had  bidden  him.  These, 


THE  KEY  OF  PROMISE  FOUND. 


147 


said  he,  were  pilgrims,  as  you  are,  once,  0n  Saturday  the 
and  they  trespassed  on  my  grounds  as  giant  threatened 
you  have  done ;  and  when  1  thought  wou\&  pun  them 
fit  I  tore  them  in  pieces,  and  so  within  m  Pieces- 
ten  days  I  will  do  you ;  go,  get  you  down  to  your  den 
again.  And  with  that  he  beat  them  all  the  way  thi¬ 
ther.  They  lay,  therefore,  all  day  on  Saturday  in 
lamentable  case,  as  before.  Now  when  night  was 
come,  and  when  Mrs.  Diffidence  and  her  husband,  the 
giant,  were  got  to  bed,  they  began  to  renew  their  dis¬ 
course  of  their  prisoners ;  and  withal  the  old  giant 
wondered,  that  he  could  neither  by  his  blows  nor 
counsel  bring  them  to  an  end.  And  with  that  his 
wife  replied,  I  fear,  said  she,  that  they  live  in  hopes 
that  some  will  come  to  relieve  them ;  or  that  they 
have  picklocks  about  them,  by  the  means  of  which 
they  hope  to  escape.  And  sayest  thou  so,  my  dear  ? 
said  the  giant ;  I  will  therefore  search  them  in  the 


morning. 

Well,  on  Saturday,  about  midnight,  they  began  to 
pray,  and  continued  in  prayer  till  almost  break  of  day. 

Now,  a  little  before  it  was  day,  good  Christian,  as 
one  half  amazed,  brake  out  into  this  passionate 
speech  ;  What  a  fool,  quoth  he,  am  I,  to  lie  in  a  stink¬ 
ing  dungeon,  when  I  may  as  well  walk  at  liberty  !  I 
have  a  key  in  my  bosom,  called  Pro-  A  key  in  Chris_ 
mise,  that  will,  I  am  persuaded,  open  tian’s  bosom  called 

'  7  .  '  *■  Promise,  opens  any 

any  lock  in  Doubting-castle.  Then  lock  in  Doubting- 
said  Hopeful,  That’s  good  news  ;  good  castle> 
brother,  pluck  it  out  of  thy  bosom,  and  try. 

Then  Christian  pulled  it  out  of  his  bosom,  and  be¬ 
gan  to  try  at  the  dungeon-door,  whose  bolt,  as  he 
turned  the  key,  gave  back,  and  the  door  flew  open  with 
ease,  and  Christian  and  Hopeful  both  came  out.  Then 


148  THEY  ESCAPE  FROM  DOUBTING-CASTLE. 

he  went  to  the  outward  door  that  leads  into  the  castle- 
yard,  and  with  his  key  opened  that  door  also.  After 
that  he  went  to  the  iron  gate,  for  that  must  be  opened 
too,  but  that  lock  went  desperately  hard,  yet  the  key 
did  open  it.  Then  they  thrust  open  the  gate  to  make 
their  escape  with  speed ;  but  that  gate,  as  it  opened, 
made  such  a  creaking  that  it  waked  Giant  Despair, 
who  hastily  rising  to  pursue  his  prisoners,  felt  his 
limbs  to  fail ;  for  his  fits  took  him  again,  so  that  he 
could  by  no  means  go  after  them.  Then  they  went 
on,  and  came  to  the  King’s  highway  again,  and  so 
were  safe,  because  they  were  out  of  his  jurisdiction. 

Now  when  they  were  gone  over  the  stile,  they  be¬ 
gan  to  contrive  with  themselves  what  they  should  do 
at  that  stile,  to  prevent  those  that  shall  come  after 
from  falling  into  the  hands  of  Giant  Despair.  So  they 
,  consented  to  erect  there  a  pillar,  and  to 

A  pillar  erected  ,  .  ,  .  .  '  . 

by  Christian  and  engrave  upon  the  side  thereof  this  sen- 
his  fellow.  tence ;  “  Over  this  stile  is  the  way  to 

Doubting-castle,  which  is  kept  by  Giant  Despair,  who 
despiseth  the  King  of  the  celestial  country,  and  seeks 
to  destroy  his  holy  pilgrims.”  Many,  therefore,  that 
followed  after,  read  what  was  written,  and  escaped  the 
danger.  This  done,  they  sang  as  follows : 

Out  of  the  way  we  went,  and  then  we  found 
What  ’twas  to  tread  upon  forbidden  ground: 

And  let  them  that  come  after  have  a  care. 

Lest  they  for  trespassing  his  pris’ners  are, 

Whose  castle’s  Doubting,  and  whose  name’s  Despair. 


They  then  went  till  they  came  to  the  Delectable 
The  Delectable  Mountains,  which  mountains  belong  to 
Mountains.  the  Lord  of  that  hill  of  which  we  have 

spoken  before.  So  they  went  up  to  the  mountains, 
to  behold  the  gardens  and  orchards,  the  vineyards 


THE  DELECTAELE  MOUNTAINS.  149 

and  fountains  of  water ;  where  also  T. 
they  drank  and  washed  themselves,  in  the  mountains, 
and  did  freely  eat  of  the  vineyards.  Now  there  were 
on  the  tops  of  these  mountains  shepherds  feeding 
their  flocks,  and  they  stood  by  the  highway-side.  The 
pilgrims,  therefore,  went  to  them,  and  leaning  upon 
their  staffs,  (as  is  common  with  weary  pilgrims  when 
they  stand  to  talk  with  any  by  the  Talk  with  the 
way,)  they  asked,  Whose  delectable  shePherds. 
mountains  are  these,  and  whose  be  the  sheep  that 
feed  upon  them  ? 

Shep.  These  mountains  are  Emmanuel’s  land,  and 
they  are  within  sight  of  his  city;  and  the  sheep  also 
are  his,  and  he  laid  down  his  life  for  them. 

Chr.  Is  this  the  way  to  the  celestial  city  ? 

Shep.  You  are  just  in  your  way. 

Chr.  How  far  is  it  thither  ? 

Shep.  Too  far  for  any  but  those  who  shall  get  thi¬ 
ther  indeed. 

Chr.  Is  the  way  safe,  or  dangerous? 

Shep.  Safe  for  those  for  whom  it  is  to  be  safe ;  but 
transgressors  shall  fall  therein,  Hos.  14  :  9. 

Chr.  Is  there  in  this  place  any  relief  for  pilgrims 
that  are  weary  and  faint  in  the  way  ? 

Shep.  The  Lord  of  these  mountains  hath  given 
us  a  charge  not  to  be  forgetful  to  entertain  stran¬ 
gers  :  therefore  the  good  of  the  place  is  before  you 
Heb.  13  :  2. 

I  saw  also  in  my  dream,  that  when  the  Shepherds 
perceived  that  they  were  wayfaring  men,  they  also 
put  questions  to  them,  (to  which  they  made  answer  as 
in  other  places,)  as,  Whence  came  you?  and,  How  got 
you  into  the  way  ?  and,  By  what  means  have  you  so 
persevered  therein  ?  for  but  few  of  them  that  begin  to 

13* 


150 


THE  MOUNTAIN  OF  ERROB. 


The  Shepherds  come  hither,  do  show  their  face  on  these 
welcome  them.  mountains.  But  when  the  Shepherds 
heard  their  answers,  being  pleased  therewith,  they 
looked  very  lovingly  upon  them,  and  said,  Welcome 
to  the  Delectable  Mountains. 

The  Shepherds,  I  say;  whose  names  were  Know- 
The  names  of  the  ledge,  Experience,  Watchful,  and  Sin- 
Shepherds.  cere,  jqqJj  them  by  the  hand,  and  had 

them  to  their  tents,  and  made  them  partake  of  what 
was  ready  at  present.  They  said,  moreover,  We  would 
that  you  should  stay  here  a  while,  to  be  acquainted 
with  us,  and  yet  more  to  solace  yourselves  with  the 
good  of  these  Delectable  Mountains.  They  then  told 
them  that  they  were  content  to  stay.  So  they  went  to 
rest  that  night,  because  it  was  very  late. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  in  the  morning  the 
Shepherds  called  up  Christian  and  Hopeful  to  walk 
with  them  upon  the  mountains.  So  they  went  forth 
with  them,  and  walked  a  while,  having  a  pleasant 
prospect  on  every  side.  Then  said  the  Shepherds  one 
They  are  shown  to  another,  Shall  we  show  these  pil- 
wonders.  grims  some  wonders?  So  when  they 

had  concluded  to  do  it,  they  had  them  first  to  the  top 
The  mountain  of  of  a  hill,  called  Error,  which  was  very 
Erro^•  steep  on  the  farthest  side,  and  bid  them 

look  down  to  the  bottom.  So  Christian  and  Hopeful 
looked  down,  and  saw  at  the  bottom  several  men 
dashed  all  to  pieces  by  a  fall  that  they  had  from  the 
top.  Then  said  Christian,  What  meaneth  this  ?  The 
Shepherds  answered,  Have  you  not  heard  of  them 
that  were  made  to  err,  by  hearkening  to  Hymeneeus 
and  Philetus,  as  concerning  the  faith  of  the  resurrec¬ 
tion  of  the  body?  2  Tim.  2  :  17,  18.  They  answered, 
Yes.  Then  said  the  Shepherds,  Those  that  you  see 


MOUNT  CAUTION. 


151 


Mount  Caution. 


dashed  in  pieces  at  the  bottom  of  this  mountain  are 
they ;  and  they  have  continued  to  this  day  unburied,  as 
you  see,  for  an  example  to  others  to  take  heed  how 
they  clamber  too  high,  or  how  they  come  too  near  the 
brink  of  this  mountain. 

Then  I  saw  that  they  had  them  to  the  top  of  another 
mountain,  and  the  name  of  that  is  Cau¬ 
tion,  and  bid  them  look  afar  off ;  which, 
when  they  did,  they  perceived,  as  they  thought,  seve¬ 
ral  men  walking  up  and  down  among  the  tombs  that 
were  there;  and  they  perceived  that  the  men  were 
blind,  because  they  stumbled  sometimes  upon  the 
tombs,  and  because  they  could  not  get  out  from  among 
them.  Then  said  Christian,  What  means  this  ? 

The  Shepherds  then  answered,  Did  you  not  see  a 
little  below  these  mountains  a  stile  that  led  into  a 
meadow,  on  the  left  hand  of  this  way  ?  They  answer¬ 
ed,  Yes.  Then  said  the  Shepherds,  From  that  stile 
there  goes  a  path  that  leads  directly  to  Doubting-castle, 
which  is  kept  by  Giant  Despair ;  and  these  men  (point¬ 
ing  to  them  among  the  tombs)  came  once  on  pilgrim¬ 
age,  as  you  do  now,  even  until  they  came  to  that  same 
stile.  And  because  the  right  way  Avas  rough  in  that 
place,  they  chose  to  go  out  of  it  into  that  meadow,  and 
there  were  taken  by  Giant  Despair,  and  cast  into 
Doubting-castle,  where,  after  they  had  awhile  been 
kept  in  the  dungeon,  he  at  last  did  put  out  their  eyes, 
and  led  them  among  those  tombs,  where  he  has  left 
them  to  wander  to  this  very  day,  that  the  saying  of 
the  wise  man  might  be  fulfilled,  “  He  that  wandereth 
out  of  the  way  of  understanding  shall  remain  in  the 
congregation  of  the  dead,”  Prov.  21  :  16.  Then  Chris¬ 
tian  and  Hopeful  looked  one  upon  another,  with  tears 
gushing  out,  but  yet  said  nothing  to  the  Shepherds. 


152 


A  BY-WAY  TO  HELL. 


Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  the  Shepherds  had 
them  to  another  place  in  a  bottom,  where  was  a  door 
on  the  side  of  a  hill ;  and  they  opened  the  door,  and 
bid  them  look  in.  They  looked  in,  therefore,  and  saw 
that  within  it  was  very  dark  and  smoky;  they  also 
thought  that  they  heard  there  a  rumbling  noise,  as  of 
fire,  and  a  cry  of  some  tormented,  and  that  they  smelt 
the  scent  of  brimstone.  Then  said  Christian,  What 
means  this  ?  The  Shepherds  told  them,  This  is  a  by- 

a  by-way  to  hell.  wa^  to  hell> a  wa^  that  hypocrites  go  in 
at ;  namely,  such  as  sell  their  birthright, 
with  Esau ;  such  as  sell  their  Master,  with  Judas ;  such 
as  blaspheme  the  Gospel,  with  Alexander ;  and  that  lie 
and  dissemble,  with  Ananias  and  Sapphira  his  wife. 

Then  said  Hopeful  to  the  Shepherds,  I  perceive  that 
these  had  on  them,  even  every  one,  a  show  of  pil¬ 
grimage,  as  we  have  now ;  had  they  not? 

Shep.  Yes,  and  held  it  a  long  time  too. 

Hope.  How  far  might  they  go  on  in  pilgrimage  in 
their  day,  since  they,  notwithstanding,  were  thus  mi¬ 
serably  cast  away  ? 

Shep.  Some  farther,  and  some  not  so  far  as  these 
mountains. 

Then  said  the  pilgrims  one  to  another,  We  have 
need  to  cry  to  the  Strong  for  strength. 

Shep.  Ay,  and  you  will  have  need  to  use  it,  when 
you  have  it,  too. 

By  this  time  the  pilgrims  had  a  desire  to  go  for¬ 
ward,  and  the  Shepherds  a  desire  they  should;  so 
they  walked  together  toward  the  end  of  the  mountains. 
Then  said  the  Shepherds  one  to  another,  Let  us  here 

The  Shepherds’  show  the  pilgrims  the  gate  of  the  Celes- 
perspective-giass.  tial  City,  if  they  have  skill  to  look 

through  our  perspective-glass.  The  pilgrims  then  lov- 


THE  PILGRIMS  PART  FROM  THE  SHEPHERDS.  153 

ngly  accepted  the  motion  :  so  they  had  them  to  the 
top  of  a  high  hill,  called  Clear,  and  gave  them  the 
glass  to  look. 

1  hen  the}/  tried  to  look ;  but  the  remembrance  of 
that  last  thing  that  the  Shepherds  had  T|,e  fl.uits  of ser. 
shown  them  made  their  hands  shake,  vile  fear* 
by  means  of  which  impediment  they  could  not  look 
steadily  through  the  glass ;  yet  they  thought  they  saw 
something  like  the  gate,  and  also  some  of  the  glory  of 
the  place.  Thus  they  went  away  and  sang : 

Thus  by  the  Shepherds  secrets  are  reveal’d, 

Which  from  all  other  men  are  kept  conceal’d  : 

Come  to  the  Shepherds  then,  if  you  would  see 
Things  deep,  things  hid,  and  that  mysterious  be. 

When  they  were  about  to  depart,  one  of  the  Shep¬ 
herds  gave  them  a  note  of  the  way.  a  ,„o-foid  c.u- 
Another  of  them  bid  them  beware  oftion* 
the  Flatterer.  The  third  bid  them  take  heed  that  they 
sleep  not  upon  the  Enchanted  Ground.  And  the  fourth 
bid  them  God  speed.  So  I  awoke  from  my  dream. 

And  I  slept,  and  dreamed  again,  and  saw  the  same 
two  pilgrims  going  down  the  mountains  along  the 
highway  toward  the  city.  Now  a  little  below  "these 
mountains,  on  the  left  hand,  lieth  the  The  country  of 
country  of  Conceit ;  from  which  conn-  C,oncueit:  out  of 
try  there  comes  into  the  way  in  which  ra«ce.tame  Ign°" 
the  pilgrims  walked,  a  little  crooked  lane.  Here  there¬ 
fore,  they  met  with  a  very  brisk  lad  that  came’  out  of 
that  country,  and  his  name  was  Ignorance.  So  Chris¬ 
tian  asked  him  from  what  parts  he 

came,  and  whither  he  was  eoino-  „  Christian  and  lg- 

O  •  norance  have  some 

Ignor.  Sir,  I  was  bom  in  the  country  talk* 


154  IGNORANCE,  FROM  THE  COUNTRY  OF  CONCEIT. 

that  lieth  off  there,  a  little  on  the  left  hand,  and  I  am 
going  to  the  Celestial  City. 

Chr.  But  how  do  you  think  to  get  in  at  the  gate, 
for  you  may  find  some  difficulty  there  ? 

Ignor.  As  other  good  people  do,  said  he. 

Chr.  But  what  have  you  to  show  at  that  gate,  that 
the  gate  should  be  opened  to  you. 

Ignor.  I  know  my  Lord’s  will,  and  have  been  a  good 

The  grounds  of  Ig-  liver :  I  pay  every  man  his  own ;  I  pray, 
norance’s  hope,  fast,  pay  tithes,  and  give  alms,  and  have 

left  my  country  for  whither  I  am  going. 

Chr.  But  thou  earnest  not  in  at  the  Avicket-gate  that 
is  at  the  head  of  this  way;  thou  earnest  in  hither 
through  that  same  crooked  lane,  and  therefore  I  fear, 
however  thou  mayest  think  of  thyself,  Avhen  the  reck¬ 
oning-day  shall  come,  thou  wilt  have  laid  to  thy  charge, 
that  thou  art  a  thief  and  a  robber,  instead  of  getting 
admittance  into  the  city. 

Ignor.  Gentlemen,  ye  be  utter  strangers  to  me ;  I 

He  teiieth  every  know  you  not :  be  content  to  follow  the 
one  he  is  but  a  fool,  religion  of  your  country,  and  I  will  fol¬ 
low  the  religion  of  mine.  I  hope  all  will  be  tvell.  And 
as  for  the  gate  that  you  talk  of,  all  the  world  knows 
that  that  is  a  great  way  off  of  our  country.  I  cannot 
think  that  any  man  in  all  our  parts  doth  so  much  as 
know  the  way  to  it ;  nor  need  they  matter  whether 
they  do  or  no,  since  we  have,  as  you  see,  a  fine,  plea¬ 
sant,  green  lane,  that  comes  down  from  our  country, 
the  next  way  into  the  Avay. 

When  Christian  saw  that  the  man  Avas  Avise  in  his 
own  conceit,  he  said  to  Hopeful,  Avhisperingly,  “  There 
is  more  hope  of  a  fool  than  of  him,”  Prov.  26  :  12. 
And  said,  moreover,  “  When  he  that  is  a  fool  walketh 
by  the  Avay,  his  wisdom  faileth  him,  and  he  saith  to 


turn-away’s  DESTRUCTION.  155 

everyone, that he  is  a  fool,” Eccles.  10:3.  What, shall 
we  talk  faither  with  him,  or  outgo  him  w 
at  present,  and  so  leave  him  to  think  of t0  a  f®oi.°  carry  U 
what  he  hath  heard  already,  and  then  stop  again  for 
lm  afterward,  and  see  if  by  degrees  we  can  do  any 
good  bv  him  ?  Then  said  Hopeful, 

Let  Ignorance  a  little  while  now  muse 
On  what  is  said,  and  let  him  not  refuse 
Good  counsel  to  embrace,  lest  he  remain 
Still  ignorant  of  what’s  the  chiefest  gain. 

God  saith,  those  that  no  understanding  have, 

(Although  he  made  them,)  them  he  will  not  save. 

H,°Ph-  He,fUther  added>  11  is  not  g°od>  I  think,  to 
wy  to  him  all  at  once ;  let  us  pass  him  by,  if  you  will 

and  talk  to  him  anon,  even  as  he  is  able  to  bear  it. 

So  they  both  went  on,  and  Ignorance  he  came  after 
Now  when  they  had  passed  him  a  little  way  they 
entered  into  a  very  dark  lane,  where  they  met  a  man 
whom  seven  devils  had  bound  with  seven  strong 
cords,  and  were  carrying  back  to  the  door  that  they 
saw  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  Matt.  12 :  45.  Prov  5  •  22 
Now  good  Christian  began  to  tremble,  and  so'  did 
Hopeful,  his  companion ;  yet,  as  the  devils  led  away 
the  man,  Christian  looked  to  see  if  he  knew  him  • 
and  he  thought  it  might  be  one  Turn-away,  that  dwelt 
m  the  town  of  Apostacy.  But  he  did  not  T,  .  “ 

perfectly  see  his  face,  for  he  did  hang  »f -  fiS)” 
his  head  like  a  thief  that  is  found;  but  being  gone 
pas  ,  Hopeful  looked  after  him,  and  espied  on  h"s 
back  a  paper,  with  this  inscription,  “  Wanton  profes 
sor,  and  damnable  apostate.”  F 

Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  Now  I  call  to  my 
remembrance  that  which  was  told  me  LS 

of  a  tiling  that  happened  to  a  good  ’*'s  coll,p.nion  a 
man  hereabout.  The  name  of  that  ?2.  "f  LU0<” 


156  LITTLE-FAITH  ROBBED  AND  ILL-TREATED. 

man  was  Little-Faith;  but  a  good  man,  and  he  dwelt 
in  the  town  of  Sincere.  The  thing  was  this.  At 
the  entering  m  at  this  passage,  there  comes  down  from 
Broadway-gate.  Broadway-gate,  a  lane,  called  Dead- 
Dead-Man’s  lane.  man’s-lane ;  so  called,  because  of  the 
murders  that  are  commonly  done  there;  and  this 
Little-Faith,  going  on  pilgrimage,  as  we  do  now, 
chanced  to  sit  down  there  and  sleep.  Now  there  hap¬ 
pened  at  that  time  to  come  down  the  lane  from  Broad¬ 
way  gate,  three  sturdy  rogues,  and  their  names  were 
Faint-Heart,  Mistrust,  and  Guilt,  three  brothers ;  and 
they  espying  Little-Faith,  where  he  was,  came  gallop¬ 
ing  up  with  speed.  Now  the  good  man  was  just 
awaked  from  his  sleep,  and  was  getting  up  to  go  on 
his  journey.  So  they  came  up  all  to  him,  and  with 
threatening  language  bid  him  stand.  At  this,  Little- 
Faith  looked  as  white  as  a  sheet,  and  had  neither 

Little  Faith  rob-  power  to  fight  or  fly.  Then  said  Faint- 
bedby  Faint-heart^  Heart,  Deliver  thy  purse ;  but  he  making 

Mistrust,  and  Guilt.  ^  tQ  dQ  ^  (for  he  was  loth  tO 

lose  his  money,)  Mistrust  ran  up  to  him,  and  thrusting 
his  hand  into  his  pocket,  pulled  out 

hisT*  silver,1  and  thence  a  bag  of  silver.  Then  he  cried 
knock  inm  down.  out  rpdieveSj  thieves  !  With  that  Guilt, 

with  a  great  club  that  was  in  his  hand,  struck  Little- 
Faith  on  the  head,  and  with  that  blow  felled  him  flat 
to  the  ground,  where  he  lay  bleeding  as  one  that 
would  bleed  to  death.  All  this  while  the  thieves 
stood  by.  But  at  last,  they  hearing  that  some  were 
upon  the  road,  and  fearing  lest  it  should  be  one  Great- 
Grace  that  dwells  in  the  city  of  Good-Confidence, 
they  betook  themselves  to  their  heels,  and  left  this 
good  man  to  shift  for  himself.  Now,  after  a  while, 
Little-Faith  came  to  himself,  and  getting  up,  made 


little-faith’s  troubles. 


157 


shift  to  scramble  on  his  way.  This  was  the  story. 

Hope.  But  did  they  take  from  him  all  that  he  ever 
had? 

Chr.  No  ;  the  place  where  his  jewels  were  they 
never  ransacked  ;  so  those  he  kept  still.  Little-Faith  lost 
But,  as  I  was  told,  the  good  man  was  not  his  best  thill&s- 
much  afflicted  for  his  loss ;  for  the  thieves  got  most  of 
his  spending-money.  That  which  they  got  not  (as  I 
said)  were  jewels  ;  also  he  had  a  little  odd  money  left, 
but  scarce  enough  to  bring  him  to  his  journey’s  end. 
Nay,  (if  I  was  not  misinformed,)  he  was 
forced  to  beg  as  he  went,  to  keep  him-  to  beg  to  his  jour 
self  alive,  for  his  jewels  he  might  not llcy  s  end* 
sell ;  but  beg  and  do  what  he  could,  he  went  (as  we 
say)  with  many  a  hungry  belly  the  most  part  of  the 
rest  of  the  way,  1  Pet.  4 :  18. 

Hope.  But  is  it  not  a  wonder  they  got  not  from  him 
his  certificate,  by  which  he  was  to  receive  his  admit¬ 
tance  at  the  Celestial  Gate  ? 

Chr.  It  is  a  wonder ;  but  they  got  not  that,  though 
they  missed  it  not  through  any  good  ^  not  h.g 
cunning  of  his  ;  for  he  being  dismayed  best  things  by  his 
by  their  coming  upon  him,  had  neither  own  cumung‘ 
power  nor  skill  to  hide  any  thing:  so  it  was  more  by 
good  providence  than  by  his  endeavor  that  they  missed 
of  that  good  thing,  2  Tim.  1 :  12 — 14  ;  1  Pet.  1 :  5 — 9. 

Hope.  But  it  must  needs  be  a  comfort  to  him  that 
they  got  not  this  jewel  from  him. 

Chr.  It  might  have  been  great  comfort  to  him,  had  he 
used  it  as  he  should ;  but  they  that  told  me  the  story 
said,  that  he  made  but  little  use  of  it  all  the  rest  of  the 
way,  and  that  because  of  the  dismay  that  he  had  in  their 
taking  away  his  money.  Indeed  he  forgot  it  a  great 
part  of  the  rest  of  his  journey ;  and  besides,  when  at 

14 


158 


DISCOURSE  ABOUT  LITTLE-FAITH. 


any  time  it  came  into  his  mind,  and  he  began  to  be 
comforted  therewith,  then  would  fresh  thoughts  of  his 
loss  come  again  upon  him,  and  these  thoughts  would 
swallow  up  all. 

He  is  pitied  by  Hope.  Alas,  poor  man,  this  could  not 
botb’  but  be  a  great  grief  unto  him. 

Chr.  Grief?  Ay,  a  grief  indeed !  Would  it  not  have 
been  so  to  any  of  us,  had  we  been  used  as  he,  to  be 
robbed  and  wounded  too,  and  that  in  a  strange  place, 
as  he  was?  It  is  a  wonder  he  did  not  die  with  grief, 
poor  heart.  I  was  told  that  he  scattered  almost  all  the 
rest  of  the  way  with  nothing  but  doleful  and  bitter 
complaints;  telling  also  to  all  that  overtook  him,  or 
that  he  overtook  in  the  way  as  he  went,  where  he  was 
robbed,  and  how ;  who  they  were  that  did  it,  and  what 
he  had  lost ;  how  he  was  wounded,  and  that  he  hardly 
escaped  with  life. 

Hope.  But  it  is  a  wonder  that  his  necessity  did  not  put 
him  upon  selling  or  pawning  some  of  his  jewels,  that 
he  might  have  wherewith  to  relieve  himself  in  his 
journey. 

Chr.  Thou  taikest  like  one  upon  whose  head  is  the 
Christian  reprov-  shell  to  this  very  day.  For  what  should 
?nadvtedly0Speafk-  he  PaWn  them  ?  0r  t0  whom  should  he 

ins-  sell  them  ?  In  all  that  country  where  he 

was  robbed,  his  jewels  were  not  accounted  of ;  nor  did 
he  want  that  relief  which  could  from  thence  be  admi¬ 
nistered  to  him.  Besides,  had  his  jewels  been  missing 
at  the  gate  of  the  Celestial  City,  he  had  (and  that  he 
knew  well  enough)  been  excluded  from  an  inheritance 
there,  and  that  would  have  been  worse  to  him  than 
the  appearance  and  villany  of  ten  thousand  thieves. 

Hope.  Why  art  thou  so  tart,  my  brother?  Esau  sold 
his  birthright,  and  that  for  a  mess  of  pottage,  Heb. 


DISCOURSE  ABOUT  LITTLE-FAITH.  159 

12  :  16 ;  and  that  birthright  was  his  greatest  jewel;  and 
if  he,  why  might  not  Little-Faith  do  so  too? 

Chr.  Esau  did  sell  his  birthright  indeed,  and  so  do 

many  besides,  and  by  so  doing  exclude  a  discourse  about 
themselves  from  the  chief  blessing,  as  Esau  and  Little 
also  that  caitiff  did ;  but  you  must  put  a  1  aith‘ 
difference  betwixt  Esau  and  Little-Faith,  and  also  be¬ 
twixt  their  estates.  Esau’s  birthright  was  typical ;  but 
Little-Faith’s  jewels  were  not  so.  Esau’s  Esau  was  ru]ed  5y 
belly  was  his  god ;  but  Little-Faith’s  his  lusts- 
belly  was  not  so.  Esau’s  want  lay  in  his  fleshly  ap¬ 
petite;  Little-Faith’s  did  not  so.  Besides,  Esau  could 
see  no  further  than  to  the  fulfilling  of  his  lusts ;  For  I 
am  at  the  point  to  die,  said  he ;  and  what  good  will 
this  birthright  do  me  ?  Gen.  25  :  32.  But  Little-Faith, 
though  it  was  his  lot  to  have  but  a  little  faith,  was  by 
his  little  faith  kept  from  such  extravagances,  and  made 
to  see  and  prize  his  jewels  more  than  to  sell  them,  as 
Esau  did  his  birthright.  You  read  not  any  where  that 

Esau  had  faith,  110,  not  SO  much  as  a  lit-  Esau  never  had 

tie ;  therefore  no  marvel,  where  the  flesh  faith- 
only  bears  sway,  (as  it  will  in  that  man  where  no  faith 
is  to  resist,)  if  he  sells  his  birthright,  and  his  soul  and 
all,  and  that  to  the  devil  of  hell ;  for  it  is  with  such  as 
it  is  with  the  ass,  who  in  her  occasion  cannot  be  turned 
away,  Jer.  2  :  24.  When  their  minds  are  set  upon  their 
lusts,  they  will  have  them,  whatever  they  cost:  but 
Little-Faith  was  of  another  temper ;  his 
mind  was  on  things  divine;  his  liveli-  noUive^pinEwu'i 
hood  was  upon  things  that  were  spiri-  pottage- 
tual,  and  from  above ;  therefore  to  what  end  should  he 
that  is  of  such  a  temper  sell  his  jewels,  (had  there  been 
any  that  would  have  bought  them,)  to  fill  his  mind 
with  empty  things  ?  Will  a  man  give  a  penny  to  fill 


160 


DISCOURSE  ABOUT  LITTLE-FAITH. 


his  belly  with  hay ?  or  can  you  per- 

tweenmfhe1St°unrUe‘  suade  the  turtle-dove  to  live  upon  car- 
dove  and  the  crow.  pke  the  crow  ?  Though  faithless 

ones  can,  for  carnal  lusts,  pawn,  or  mortgage,  or  sell 
what  they  have,  and  themselves  outright  to  boot ;  yet 
they  that  have  faith,  saving  faith,  though  but  a  little 
of  it,  cannot  do  so.  Here,  therefore,  my  brother,  is  thy 
mistake. 

Hope.  I  acknowledge  it ;  but  yet  your  severe  reflec¬ 


tion  had  almost  made  me  angry. 

Chr.  Why,  I  did  but  compare  thee  to  some  of  the 
birds  that  are  of  the  brisker  sort,  who  will  run  to  and 
fro  in  trodden  paths  with  the  shell  upon  their  heads: 
but  pass  by  that,  and  consider  the  matter  under  debate, 
and  all  shall  be  well  betwixt  thee  and  me. 

Hope.  But,  Christian,  these  three  fellows,  I  am  per¬ 
suaded  in  my  heart,  are  but  a  company 
Hopeful  swaggers.  cowar(js .  woui(i  they  have  run  else, 

think  you,  as  they  did  at  the  noise  of  one  that  was 
coming  on  the  road?  Why  did  not  Little-Faith  pluck 
up  a  greater  heart?  He  might,  methinks,  have  stood 
one  brush  with  them,  and  have  yielded  when  there 
had  been  no  remedy. 

Chr.  That  they  are  cowards,  many  have  said,  but 
„  „ .  , .  few  have  found  it  so  in  the  time  of  trial. 

No  great  heart  for 

God  where  there  is  As  for  a  great  heart,  Little-Faith  had 

but  little  faith.  .  T  •  ,  ,,  . 

none ;  and  1  perceive  by  thee,  my  bro¬ 
ther,  hadst  thou  been  the  man  concerned,  thou  art  but 
for  a  brush,  and  then  to  yield.  And,  verily,  since  this 
We  have  more  is  the  height  of  thy  stomach  now  they 

courage  when  we  arG  at  a  distance  from  US,  should  they 
are  out,  than  when  7  J 

we  are  in.  appear  to  thee,  as  they  did  to  him,  they 

might  put  thee  to  second  thoughts. 

But  consider  again,  they  are  but  journeymen  thieves ; 


DISCOURSE  ABOUT  LITTLE-FAITH.  161 


they  serve  under  the  king  of  the  bottomless  pit,  who, 
if  need  be,  will  come  in  to  their  aid  himself,  and  his 
voice  is  as  the  roaring  of  a  lion,  1  Pet.  5  :  8.  I  myself 
have  been  engaged  as  this  Little-Faith  r.  .  .  „ 

was,  and  1  found  it  a  terrible  thing,  own  experience  in 
These  three  villains  set  upon  me,  and  I  this  case' 


beginning  like  a  Christian  to  resist,  they  gave  but 
a  call,  and  in  came  their  master.  I  would  (as  the  say  - 
ing  is)  have  given  my  life  for  a  penny,  but  that,  as 
God  would  have  it,  I  was  clothed  with  armor  of  proof. 
A.y,  and  j'et,  though  I  was  so  harnessed,  I  found  it 
haiu  work  to  quit  myself  like  a  man ;  no  man  can  tell 
what  in  that  combat  attends  us,  but  he  that  hath  been 
in  the  battle  himself. 

Hope.  Well,  but  they  ran,  you  see,  when  they  did 
but  suppose  that  one  Great-Grace  was  in  the  way. 

Chr.  Fine,  they  often  have  fled,  both  they  and  theij* 
mastei,  when  Great-Grace  hath  but  appeared  ;  and  no 
marvel,  for  he  is  the  King’s  champion.  The  Khlff,s 
But  I  trow,  you  will  put  some  difference  champion. 


betwixt  Little-Faith  and  the  King’s  champion.  All 
the  king’s  subjects  are  not  his  champions ;  nor  can 
they,  when  tried,  do  such  feats  of  war  as  he.  Is  it 
meet  to  think  that  a  little  child  should  handle  Goliath 
as  David  did  ?  or  that  there  should  be  the  strength  oi 
an  ox  in  a  wren  ?  Some  are  strong,  some  are  weak  ; 
some  have  great  faith,  some  have  little:  this  man  was 
one  of  the  weak,  and  therefore  he  went  to  the  wall. 

Hope.  I  would  it  had  been  Great-Grace  for  their 
sakes. 

Chr.  If  it  had  been  he,  he  might  have  had  his  hands 
full  5  for  I  must  tell  you,  that  though  Great  Grace  is 
excellent  good  at  his  weapons,  and  has,  and  can,  so 
long  as  he  keeps  them  at  sword’s  point,  do  well 

14* 


162 


DISCOURSE  ABOUT  LITTLE-FAITH. 


enough  with  them ;  yet  if  they  get  within  him,  even 
Faint-Heart.,  Mistrust,  or  the  other,  it  shall  go  hard  but 
they  will  throw  up  his  heels.  And  when  a  man  is 
down,  you  know,  what  can  he  do  ? 

Whoso  looks  well  upon  Great-Grace’s  face,  will  see 
those  scars  and  cuts  there,  that  shall  easily  give  demon¬ 
stration  of  what  I  say.  Yea,  once  I  heard  that  he 
should  say,  (and  that  when  he  was  in  the  combat,) 
We  despaired  even  of  life.  How  did  these  sturdy 
rogues  and  their  fellows  make  David  groan,  mourn, 
and  roar  !  Yea,  Heman,  Psalm,  88;  and  Hezekiah  too, 
though  champions  in  their  days,  were  forced  to  bestir 
them,  when  by  these  assaulted ;  and  yet,  notwith¬ 
standing,  they  had  their  coats  soundly  brushed  by 
them.  Peter,  upon  a  time,  would  go  try  what  he 
could  do ;  but  though  some  do  say  of  him  that  he  is 
the  prince  of  the  apostles,  they  handled  him  so  that 
they  made  him  at  last  afraid  of  a  sorry  girl. 

Besides,  their  king  is  at  their  whistle ;  he  is  never 
out  of  hearing ;  and  if  at  any  time  they  be  put  to  the 
worst,  he,  if  possible,  comes  in  to  help  them ;  and  of 
Leviathan’s  stur-  him  it  is  said,  “  The  sword  of  him  that 
,llllesti‘  layeth  at  him  cannot  hold ;  the  spear, 

the  dart,  nor  the  habergeon.  He  esteemed  iron  as 
straw,  and  brass  as  rotten  wood.  The  arrow  cannot 
make  him  fly ;  sling-stones  are  turned  with  him  into 
stubble.  Darts  are  counted  as  Stubble ;  he  faugheth 
at  the  shaking  of  a  spear,”  Job,  41 :  26—29.  What 
can  a  man  do  in  this  case  ?  It  is  true,  if  a  man  could  at 
every  turn  have  Job’s  horse,  and  had  skill  and  courage 
to  ride  him,  he  might  do  notable  things.  “  For  his 
The  excellent  n>et-  neck  ls  clothed  with  thunder.  He  will 
Lorce31  'S  J°b'S  no*  a^ra^  as  the  grasshopper :  the 
glory  of  his  nostrils  is  terrible.  He 


I 


DISCOURSE  ABOUT  LITTLE-FAITH.  163 

paweth  in  the  valley,  rejoiceth  in  his  strength,  and 
goeth  out  to  meet  the  armed  men.  He  mocketh  at 
fear,  and  is  not  affrighted,  neither  turneth  back  from 
the  sword.  The  quiver  rattleth  against  him,  the  glit¬ 
tering  spear  and  the  shield.  He  swalloweth  the 
ground  with  fierceness  and  rage ;  neither  believeth  he 
that  it  is  the  sound  of  the  trumpet.  He  saith  among 
the  trumpets,  Ha,  ha ;  and  he  smelleth  the  battle  afar 
off,  the  thundering  of  the  captains,  and  the  shoutings  55 
Job,  39:  19—25. 

But  for  such  footmen  as  thee  and  I  are,  let  us  never 
desire  to  meet  with  an  enemy,  nor  vaunt  as  if  we 
could  do  better,  when  we  hear  of  others  that  have  been 
foiled,  nor  be  tickled  at  the  thoughts  of  our  own  man¬ 
hood  ;  for  such  commonly  come  by  the  worst  when 
tried.  Witness  Peter,  of  whom  I  made  mention  be¬ 
fore  ;  he  would  swagger,  ay,  he  would ;  he  would,  as 
his  vain  mind  prompted  him  to  say,  do  better,  and 
stand  more  for  his  Master  than  all  men  5  but,  who  so 
foiled  and  run  down  by  these  villains  as  he? 

When,  therefore,  we  hear  that  such  robberies  are 
done  on  the  King’s  highway,  two  things  become  us 
to  do. 

1.  To  go  out  harnessed,  and  to  be  sure  to  take  a 
shield  with  us ;  for  it  was  for  the  want  of  that,  that 
he  that  laid  so  lustily  at  Leviathan  could  not  make 
him  yield  ;  for,  indeed,  if  that  be  wanting,  he  fears  us 
not  at  all.  Therefore,  he  that  had  skill  hath  said, 

“  Above  all,  take  the  shield  of  faith,  wherewith  ye  shall 
be  able  to  quench  all  the  fiery  darts  of  the  wicked  ” 
Ephes.  6 :  16. 

2.  It  is  good,  also,  that  we  desire  of  the  King  a  con- 
voy,  yea,  that  he  will  go  with  us  him-  i,  i8  sm4 t0  k„. 
self.  This  made  David  rejoice  when  a  convoy. 


104  THE  FLATTERER  SEDUCES  THE  PILGRIMS. 

in  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  ;  and  Moses 
was  rather  for  dying  where  he  stood,  than  to  go  one 
step  without  his  God,  Exod.  33  :  15.  O  my  brother,  if 
he  will  but  go  along  with  us,  what  need  we  be  afraid 
of  ten  thousands  that  shall  set  themselves  against  us? 
Psalm,  3 :  5 — 8 ;  27  :  1 — 3.  But  without  him,  the 
proud  helpers  fall  under  the  slain,  Isa.  10  :  4. 

I,  for  my  part,  have  been  in  the  fray  before  now; 
and  though  (through  the  goodness  of  Him  that  is  best) 
I  am,  as  you  see,  alive,  yet  I  cannot  boast  of  my  man¬ 
hood.  Glad  shall  I  be  if  I  meet  with  no  more  such 
brunts  ;  though  I  fear  we  are  not  got  beyond  all  dan¬ 
ger.  However,  since  the  lion  and  the  bear  have  not 
as  yet  devoured  me,  I  hope  God  will  also  deliver 
us  from  the  next  uncircumcised  Philistine. 

Poor  Little-Faith!  hast  been  among  the  thieves? 

Wast  robb’d  ?  Remember  this,  whoso  believes, 

And  get  more  faith;  then  shall  your  victors  be 
Over  ten  thousand,  else  scarce  over  three. 

So  they  went  on,  and  Ignorance  followed.  They 
went  then  till  they  came  at  a  place 

‘  A  way  and  away.  _  ,  .  ,  „  . 

where  they  saw  a  wTay  put  itself  into 
their  way,  and  seemed  withal  to  lie  as  straight  as  the 
way  which  they  should  go  ;  and  here  they  knew  not 
which  of  the  two  to  take,  for  both  seemed  straight 
before  them ;  therefore  here  they  stood  still  to  con¬ 
sider.  And  as  they  were  thinking  about  the  way, 
behold,  a  man  black  of  flesh,  but  covered  with  a  very 
light  robe,  came  to  them,  and  asked  them  why  they 
stood  there.  They  answered,  they  were  going  to  the 
Celestial  City,  but  knew  not  which  of  these  ways  to 
take.  Follow  me,  said  the  man ;  it  is  thither  that  I 
am  going.  So  they  followed  him  in  the  way  that  but 
now  came  into  the  road,  which  by  degrees  turned, 


THE  NET. — THEIR  MISERY. 


165 


and  turned  them  so  from  the  city  that  Christian  and  his 
they  desired  to  go  to,  that  in  a  little  time  fellovv  deluded, 
their  faces  were  turned  from  it ;  yet  they  followed 

him.  But  by  and  by,  before  they  were  They  are  taken 
aware,  lie  led  them  both  within  the  in  a  liet* 
compass  of  a  net,  in  which  they  were  both  soentangled 
that  they  knew  not  what  to  do;  and  with  that  the 
white  robe  fell  off  the  black  man’s  back.  Then  they 
saw  where  they  were.  Wherefore  there  they  lay  cry¬ 
ing  some  time,  for  they  could  not  get  themselves  out. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  Now  do  I 
see  myself  in  an  error.  Did  not  the  They  bewail  their 
Shepherds  bid  us  beware  of  the  Flat-  coudition- 
terer  %  As  is  the  saying  of  the  wise  man,  so  we  have 
found  it  this  day :  “  A  man  that  flattereth  his  neigh¬ 
bor,  spreadeth  a  net  for  his  feet,”  Prov.  29  :  5. 

Hope.  They  also  gave  us  a  note  of  directions  about 
the  way,  for  our  more  sure  finding  thereof ;  but  therein 
we  have  also  forgotten  to  read,  and  not  kept  ourselves 
from  the  paths  of  the  destroyer.  Here  David  was 
wiser  than  we  ,  for,  saith  he,  “  Concerning  the  works 
of  men,  by  the  word  of  thy  lips  I  have  kept  me  from 
the  paths  of  the  destroyer,”  Psalm  17  :  4.  Thus  they 
lay  bewailing  themselves  in  the  net.  At  last  they  es¬ 
pied  a  Shining  One  coming  toward  A  Shining-  One 

comes  to  them  with 

them  with  a  whip  of  small  cords  in  u  whip  in  his  hand, 
his  hand.  When  he  was  come  to  the  place  where 
they  were,  he  asked  them  whence  they  came,  and 
what  they  did  there.  They  told  him  that  they  were 
poor  pilgrims  going  to  Zion,  but  were  led  out  of 
their  way  by  a  black  man  clothed  in  white,  who  bid 
us,  said  they,  follow  him,  for  he  was  going  thither  too. 
Then  said  he  with  a  whip,  It  is  Flatterer,  a  false  apos¬ 
tle,  that  hath  transformed  himself  into  an  angel  of 


166  A  SHINING  ONE  CHASTISES  THEM  SORELY. 

light,  Dan.  11 :  32 ;  2  Cor.  11 :  13,  14.  So  he  rent  the 
net,  and  let  the  men  out.  Then  said  he  to  them,  Fol¬ 
low  me,  that  I  may  set  you  in  your  way  again.  So 
he  led  them  back  to  the  way  which  they  had  left  to 
follow  the  Flatterer.  Then  he  asked  them,  saying, 
Where  did  you  lie  the  last  night? 

e<Iham?rconvkted  They  said,  With  the  Shepherds  upon 
of  forgetfulness.  the  Delectable  Mountains.  He  asked 

them  then  if  they  had  not  a  note  of  directions  for  the 
way.  They  answered,  Yes.  But  did  you  not,  said 
he,  when  you  were  at  a  stand,  pluck  out  and  read 
your  note  ?  They  answered,  No.  He  asked  them, 
Why  ?  They  said  they  forgot.  He  asked,  moreover, 
if  the  Shepherds  did  not  bid  them  beware  of  the 
Deceivers  fine  Flatterer.  They  answered,  Yes ;  but 
spoken.  we  did  not  imagine,  said  they,  this  fine- 

spoken  man  had  been  he,  Rom.  16:  17,  18. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  he  commanded  them 
to  lie  down  ;  which  when  they  did,  he 
P  J,haVrseMhi?n  chastised  them  sore,  to  teach  them  the 
their  way.  g00d  Way  wherein  they  should  walk, 

Deut.  25  :  2  ;  2  Chron.  6  :  27 ;  and  as  he  chastised 
them,  he  said,  “As  many  as  I  love  I  rebuke  and  chas¬ 
ten;  be  zealous,  therefore,  and  repent,”  Rev.  3;  19. 
This  done,  he  bids  them  go  on  their  way,  and  take 
good  heed  to  the  other  directions  of  the  Shepherds. 
So  they  thanked  him  for  all  his  kindness,  and  went 
softly  along  the  right  way,  singing  : 

Come  hither,  you  that  walk  along  the  way, 

See  how  the  pilgrims  fare  that  go  astray: 

They  catched  are  in  an  entangled  net, 

’Cause  they  good  counsel  lightly  did  forget , 

’Tis  true  they  rescued  were  ;  but  yet,  you  3ee, 

They’re  scourg’d  to  boot :  let  this  your  caution  be. 

Now,  after  awhile,  they  perceived  afar  off  one  coin- 


ATHEIST  MEETS  THE  PILGRIMS.  167 

ing  softly,  and  alone,  all  along  the  highway  to  meet 
them.  Then  said  Christian  to  his  fellow,  Yonder  is 
a  man  with  his  back  toward  Zion,  and  he  is  comma- 
to  meet  us. 


Hope.  I  see  him  ;  let  us  take  heed  to  ourselves  now 
lest  he  should  prove  a  flatterer  also.  So 
He  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  and  at  last  theui* 


came  up  to  them.  His  name  was  Atheist,  and  he 
asked  them  whither  they  were  going. 

Chr.  We  are  going  to  the  Mount  Zion. 

Then  Atheist  fell  into  a  very  great  laughter. 

Chr.  Wliat’s  the  meaning  of  your  laughter? 

Atheist.  I  laugh  to  see  what  ignorant  persons  you 
are,  to  take  upon  you  so  tedious  a  journey,  and  yet  are 
like  to  have  nothing  but  your  travel  for  your  pains. 

Chr.  Why,  man,  do  you  think  we  Thpv  rpa  . 
shall  not  be  received  ?  gctherf  son  °" 

Atheist.  Received !  There  is  not  such  a  place  as 
you  dream  of  in  all  this  world. 


Chr.  But  there  is  in  the  world  to  come. 

Atheist.  When  I  was  at  home  in  mine  own  country, 
I  heard  as  you  now  affirm,  and  from  that  hearing  went 
out  to  see,  and  have  been  seeking  this  city  these 
twenty  years,  but  find  no  more  of  it  than  I  did  the 
first  day  I  set  out,  Eccles.  10  :  15.  Jer.  17 :  15. 

Chr.  We  have  both  heard,  and  believe,  that  there  is 
such  a  place  to  be  found. 

Atheist.  Had  not  I,  when  at  home,  believed,  I  had 
not  come  thus  far  to  seek;  but  finding  none,  (and  yet 
I  should,  had  there  been  such  a  place  to 
be  found,  for  I  have  gone  to  seek  it  «i>  his  coiiteut  iu 
further  than  you,)  I  am  going  back  UlIS  worlt,‘ 
again,  and  will  seek  to  refresh  myself  with  the  things 
that  I  then  cast  away  for  hopes  of  that  which  I  now 
see  is  not. 


168 


THEY  OPPOSE  ATHEIST. 


Chr.  Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful  his  com- 

Christian  proveth  panion,  Is  it  true  which  this  mail  hath 
his  brother.  said  ? 

Hope.  Take  heed,  he  is  one  of  the  flatterers.  Re- 
Hopefui’s  gra.  member  what  it  hath  cost  us  once  al- 
dous  answer.  ready  for  harkening  to  such  kind  of  fel¬ 
lows.  What !  no  Mount  Zion  ?  Did  we  not  see  from 
the  Delectable  Mountains  the  gate  of  the  city  ?  Also, 
are  we  not  now  to  walk  by  faith  ?  2  Cor.  5:7.  Let  us 
Remembrance  Of  go  on,  lest  the  man  with  the  whip  over- 

former  chastise-  take  us  again.  You  should  have  taught 
ment  is  a  help  ,  ,  . 

against  present  me  that  lesson,  which  I  will  round  you 
temptation.  jn  tjie  ears  withal:  “  Cease,  my  son,  to 

hear  the  instruction  that  causeth  to  err  from  the 
words  of  knowledge,”  Prov.  19  :  27.  I  say,  my  brother, 
cease  to  hear  him,  and  let  us  believe  to  the  saving 
of  the  soul.  Heb.  10  :  39. 

Chr.  My  brother,  I  did  not  put  the  question  to 
thee,  for  that  I  doubted  of  the  truth  of  our  belief  my¬ 
self,  but  to  prove  thee,  and  to  fetch  from  thee  a  fruit 
of  the  honesty  of  thy  heart.  As  for  this  man,  I  know 
that  he  is  blinded  by  the  god  of  this  world.  Let  thee 
and  me  go  on,  knowing  that  we  have  belief  of  the 
truth,  and  no  lie  is  of  the  truth,  1  John,  2  :  21. 

Hope.  Now  do  1  rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of 
God.  So  they  turned  away  from  the  man,  and  he, 
laughing  at  them,  went  his  way. 

I  then  saw  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  until 
They  come  to  the  they  came  into  a  certain  country,  whose 
enchanted  ground.  ajr  naturally  tended  to  make  one  drow¬ 
sy,  if  he  came  a  stranger  into  it.  And  here  Hopeful 
Hopeful  begins  to  began  to  be  very  dull,  and  heavy  to 
be  drowsy.  sleep ;  wherefore  he  said  unto  Christian, 
I  do  now  begin  to  grow  so  drowsy,  that  I  can  scarcely 


THE  ENCHANTED  GROUND, 


169 


hold  open  mine  eyes;  let  us  lie  down  here  and  take 
one  nap. 

Chr  By  no  means,  said  the  other,  Chtiaian  keep. 
lest  sleeping  we  never  awake  more.  bira  awake. 

Hope.  Why,  my  brother?  sleep  is  sweet  to  the  la¬ 
boring  man ;  we  may  be  refreshed  if  we  take  a  nap. 

Chr  Do  you  not  remember  that  one  of  the  Shep¬ 
herds  bid  us  beware  of  the  Enchanted  Ground  ?  He 
meant  by  that,  that  we  should  beware  of  sleeping- 
wherefore  “ let  us  not  sleep  as  others  do,  but  let  us 
watch  and  be  sober,”  1  Thess.5  :  6. 

Hope.  I  acknowledge  myself  in  a  fault ;  and  had  I 
been  here  alone,  I  had  by  sleeping  run 
the  danger  of  death.  I  see  it  is°true  He  is  thankfuL 
that  the  wise  man  saith,  “Two  are  better  than  one,” 
Eccles.  4  :  9.  Hitherto  hath  thy  company  been 

my  mercy ;  and  thou  shalt  have  a  good  reward  for 
thy  labor. 

Chr  Now,  then,  said  Christian,  to  Gmld  ditcourj(! 
pre\ent  diowsiness  in  this  place,  let  us  Preveutcth  drow 
fall  into  good  discourse.  suless* 

Hope.  With  all  my  heart,  said  the  other. 

Chr.  W'  here  shall  we  begin  ? 

Hope  Where  God  began  with  us.  But  do  you 
begin,  if  you  please.  * 

Chr.  I  will  sing  you  first  this  song. 


When  saints  do  sleepy  grow,  let  them  come  hither 
And  hear  how  these  two  pilgrims  talk  together 
Yea,  let  them  learn  of  them  in  any  wise 
1  bus  to  keep  cpe  their  drowsy,  slumb’ring  eyes. 

Saint’s  fellowship,  if  it  be  managed  well, 

Keeps  them  awake,  and  that  in  spite  of  hell. 

Chr.  Then  Christian  began,  and  ~  They  begin  at 

said,  I  Yvill  ask  you  a  question.  How  n,e-  besinni“g‘  of 

-  -  AA'-/>V  their  coaversion 


170  hopeful’s  account  of  his  conversion. 


came  you  to  think  at  first  of  doing  as  you  do  now'? 

Hope.  Do  you  mean,  how  I  came  at  first  to  look 
after  the  good  of  my  soul  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  that  is  my  meaning. 

Hope,  i  continued  a  great  while  in  the  delight  of 
those  things  which  were  seen  and  sold  at  our  fair; 
things  which  I  believe  now  would  have,  had  I  con 
tinned  in  them  still,  drowned  me  in  perdition  and 
destruction. 

Cur.  What  things  were  they  ? 

Hope.  All  the  treasures  and  riches  of  the  world. 
Hopeful’s  life  be-  Also  I  delighted  much  in  rioting,  re- 
fore  conversion,  yelling,  drinking,  swearing,  lying,  un¬ 
cleanness,  sabbath-breaking,  and  what  not,  that  tended 
to  destroy  the  soul.  But  I  found  at  last,  by  hearing 
and  considering  of  things  that  are  divine,  which,  in¬ 
deed,  I  heard  of  you,  as  also  of  beloved  Faithful  that 
was  put  to  death  for  his  faith  and  good  living  in  Va¬ 
nity  Fair,  that  the  end  of  these  things  is  death,  Rom. 
6 :  21 — 23 ;  and  that  for  these  things’  sake  the  wrath 
of  God  cometli  upon  the  children  of  disobedience, 
Eph.  5:6. 

Chr.  And  did  you  presently  fall  under  the  power  of 
this  conviction  ? 

Hope.  No,  I  was  not  willing  presently  to  know  the 

Hopeful  at  first  ev^  s^n)  nor  ^ie  damnation  that  foi¬ 
sts  lus  eyes  lows  upon  the  commission  of  it ;  but 
acuiust  the  b0iit.  eil(jeavore(^  when  my  mind  at  first  be¬ 
gan  to  be  shaken  with  the  word,  to  shut  mine  eyes 
against  the  light  thereof. 

Chr.  But  what  was  the  cause  of  your  carrying  of  it 
thus  to  the  first  workings  of  God’s  blessed  Spirit  upon 
you  ? 

Hope.  The  causes  were,  1.  I  was  ignorant  that  this 


hopeful’s  account  of  his  CONVERSION.  171 

was  the  work  of  God  upon  me.  I  ne-  Reasons  of  his 
ver  thought  that  by  awakenings  for  sin,  resisiiug  the  light. 

God  at  first  begins  the  conversion  of  a  sinner.  2.  Sin 
was  yet  very  sweet  to  my  flesh,  and  I  was  loth  to 
leave  it.  3.  I  could  not  tell  how  to  part  with  mine 
old  companions,  their  presence  and  actions  were  so 
desirable  unto  me.  4.  The  hours  in  which  convic¬ 
tions  were  upon  me,  were  such  troublesome  and  such 
heart-affrighting  hours,  that  I  could  not  bear,  no,  not 
so  much  as  the  remembrance  of  them  upon  my  heart. 

Chr.  Then,  as  it  seems,  sometimes  you  got  rid  of 
your  trouble  ? 

Hope.  Yes,  verily,  but  it  would  come  into  my  mind 
again  ;  and  then  I  should  be  as  bad,  nay,  worse,  than 
I  was  before. 

Chr.  Why,  what  was  it  that  brought  your  sins  to 
mind  again? 

Hope.  Many  things ;  as,  When  he  had  lost 

1.  If  I  did  but  meet  a  good  man  in  "LTrlugLii 

the  streets ;  or,  .  again. 

2.  If  I  have  heard  any  read  in  the  Bible ;  or, 

3.  If  my  head  did  begin  to  ache  ;  or, 

4.  If  I  were  told  that  some  of  my  neighbors  were 
sick  ;  or, 

5.  If  I  heard  the  bell  toll  for  some  that  were 
dead ;  or, 

6.  If  I  thought  of  dying  myself ;  or, 

7.  If  I  heard  that  sudden  death  happened  to  others. 

8.  But  especially  when  I  thought  of  myself,  that  I 
must  quickly  come  to  judgment. 

Chr.  And  could  you  at  any  lime,  with  ease,  get  off 
the  guilt  of  sin,  when  by  any  of  these  ways  it  came 
upon  you  ? 

Hope.  No,  not  I ;  for  then  they  got  faster  hold  of 


172  hopeful’s  account  of  his  conversion. 

my  conscience  ;  and  then,  if  I  did  but  think  of  going 
back  to  sin,  (though  my  mind  was  turned  against  it,) 
it  would  be  double  torment  to  me. 

Chr.  And  how  did  you  then  ? 

, ,  Hope.  I  thought  I  must  endeavor  to 

When  he  could  ,  ,  T  T  _ 

no  longer  shake  off  mend  my  life  ;  or  else  thought  1, 1  am 

courses,1  tLIThS  sure  to  be  damned. 

endeavors  to  mend.  Chr.  And  did  y  ou  endeavor  to  mend  ? 

Hope.  Yes,  and  fled  from,  not  only  my  sins,  but  sin¬ 
ful  company  too,  and  betook  me  to  leligious  duties  ; 
as  praying,  reading,  weeping  for  sin,  speaking  tiuth 
to  my  neighbors,  &c.  These  things  did  I,  with  many 
others,  too  much  here  to  relate. 

Chr.  And  did  you  think  yourself  well  then  ? 

Hope.  Yes,  for  a  while ;  but  at  the  last  my  trouble 
came  tumbling  upon  me  again,  and  that  over  the  neck 
of  all  my  reformations.  . 

Chr.  How  came  that  about,  since  you  were  now 
reformed  ? 

Hope.  There  were  several  things  brought  it  upon 
.  me,  especially  such  sayings  as  these: 
last  could  not  help,  “  All  our  righteousnesses  are  as  filthy 
and  why.  rags,”  Isa.  64:  6.  “By  the  works  of 

the  law  shall  no  flesh  be  justified,”  Gal.  2  :  16.  When 
ye  have  done  all  those  things,  say,  W  e  are  unprofit¬ 
able,”  Luke  17:  10;  with  many  more  such  like. 
From  whence  I  began  to  reason  with  myself  t.ius . 
If  all  my  righteousnesses  are  as  filthy  rags,  if  by  the 
deeds  of  the  law  no  man  can  be  justified,  and  if,  when 
we  have  done  all,  we  are  yet  unprofitable,  then  is  it 
but  a  folly  to  think  of  heaven  by  the  law.  I  farther 
„.  .  .  ...  thought  thus  :  If  a  man  runs  a  hundred 

or  to  the  law  trou-  pounds  into  the  shop-keeper  s  debt,  and 
bled  lain.  after  lhat  shall  pay  for  ^  that  he  shall 


hopeful’s  account  of  his  conversion.  173 


fetch ;  yet  if  his  old  debt  stand  still  in  the  book  un¬ 
crossed,  the  shopkeeper  may  sue  him  for  it,  and  cast 
him  into  prison  till  lie  shall  pay  the  debt. 

Chr.  Well,  and  how  did  you  apply  this  to  yourself? 

Hope.  Why,  I  thought  thus  with  myself:  I  have  by 
my  sins  run  a  great  way  into  God’s  book,  and  my  now 
reforming  will  not  pay  off  that  score.  Therefore  I 
should  think  still,  under  all  my  present  amendments, 
But  how  shall  I  be  freed  from  that  damnation  that  I 
brought  myself  in  danger  of  by  my  former  trans¬ 
gressions? 

Chr.  A  very  good  application :  but  pray  go  on. 

Hope.  Another  thing  that  hath  troubled  me  ever 
since  my  late  amendments  is,  that  if  I  His  espying  bad 
look  narrowly  into  the  best  of  what  I  *lu”£8  111  J'is  .b.es* 
do  now,  I  still  see  sin,  new  sin,  mixing  him. 
itself  with  the  best  of  that  I  do ;  so  that  now  I  am  forced 
to  conclude,  that  notwithstanding  my  former  fond  con¬ 
ceits  of  myself  and  duties,  I  have  committed  sin  enough 
in  one  day  to  send  me  to  hell,  though  my  former  life 
had  been  faultless. 

Ciir.  And  what  did  you  then? 

Hope.  Do  !  I  could  not  tell  what  to  do,  until  I  broke 
my  mind  to  Faithful;  for  he  and  I  were  well  acquainted. 
And  he  told  me,  that  unless  I  could  ob-  This  n]a(]e  hi 
tain  the  righteousness  of  a  man  that  break  his  mind  to 
never  had  sinned,  neither  mine  own,  him  the  way  to  be 
nor  all  the  righteousness  of  the  world,  savcd* 
could  save  me. 

Chr.  And  did  you  think  he  spake  true? 

Hope.  Had  he  told  me  so  when  I  was  pleased  and 
satisfied  with  my  own  amendments,  I  had  called  him 
fool  for  his  pains ;  but  now,  since  I  see  my  own  infirmi- 

15* 


174  hopeful’s  account  of  his  conversion. 


ty,  and  the  sin  which  cleaves  to  my  best  performance, 
I  have  been  forced  to  be  of  his  opinion. 

Chr.  But  did  you  think,  when  at  first  he  suggested 
it  to  you,  that  there  was  such  a  man  to  be  found,  of 
whom  it  might  justly  be  said  that  he  never  commit¬ 
ted  sin  ? 

Hope.  I  must  confess  the  words  at  first  sounded 
strangely ;  but  after  a  little  more  talk  and  company 
with  him,  I  had  full  conviction  about  it. 

Chr.  And  did  you  ask  him  what  man  this  was,  and 
how  you  must  be  justified  by  him? 

Hope.  Yes,  and  he  told  me  it  was  the  Lord  Jesus, 
that  dvvelleth  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Most  High, 

A  more  particular  Heb*  10  :  12—21.  Alld  thus,  Said  lie, 
discovery  of  the  y0ll  must  be  justified  by  him,  even  by 

way  to  be  saved.  .  ,  '  J 

trusting  to  what  he  hath  done  by  him¬ 
self  in  the  days  of  his  flesh,  and  suffered  when  he  did 
hang  on  the  tree,  Rom.  4:5;  Col.  1  :  14;  1  Pet.  1  :  19. 
I  asked  him  further,  how  that  man’s  righteousness 
could  be  of  that  efficacy,  to  justify  another  before  God. 
And  he  told  me,  he  was  the  mighty  God,  and  did  what 
he  did,  and  died  the  death  also,  not  for  himself,  but  for 
me;  to  whom  his  doings,  and  the  worthiness  of  them, 
should  be  imputed,  if  I  believed  on  him. 

Chr.  And  what  did  you  do  then? 

Hope.  I  made  my  objections  against  my  believing, 

Ho  doubts  of  ac-  for  that  I  thought  he  was  not  willing  to 

ceptatiou.  gave  me< 

Chr.  And  what  said  Faithful  to  you  then? 

Hope.  He  bid  me  go  to  him  and  see.  Then  I  said  it 

He  is  better  in-  was  presumption.  He  said,  No ;  for  I  was 
structed.  invited  to  come,  Matt.  11  :  28.  Then  he 

gave  me  a  book  of  Jesus’s  inditing,  to  encourage  me 
the  more  freely  to  come ;  and  he  said  concerning  that 


hopeful’s  account  of  HIS  CONVERSION.  175 

book,  that  every  jot  and  tittle  thereof  stood  firmer  than 
heaven  and  earth,  Matt.  24  :  35.  Then  I  asked  him 
what  I  must  do  when  1  came;  and  he  told  me,  I  must 
entreat  upon  my  knees,  Psalm  95  :  6;  Daniel  6  :  10; 
with  all  my  heart  and  soul,  Jer.  29  :  12,  13,  the  Father 
to  reveal  him  to  me.  Then  I  asked  him  further,  how 
I  must  make  my  supplications  to  him ;  and  he  said,  Go, 
and  thou  shalt  find  him  upon  a  mercy-seat,  where  he 
sits  all  the  year  long  to  give  pardon  and  forgiveness 
to  them  that  come,  Ex.  25  :  22 ;  Lev.  16  :  2;  Num.  7  : 
89;  Heb.  4  :  16.  I  told  him  that  I  knew 
not  what  to  say  when  I  came ;  and  he  He  1S  bld  t0  pray* 
bid  me  say  to  this  effect :  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sin¬ 
ner,  and  make  me  to  know  and  believe  in  Jesus  Christ; 
for  I  see,  that  ii  his  righteousness  had  not  been,  or  I 
have  not  faith  in  that  righteousness,  I  am  utterly  cast 
away.  Lord,  I  have  heard  that  thou  art  a  merciful  God, 
and  hast  ordained  that  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  should  be 
the  Savior  of  the  world ;  and  moreover,  that  thou  art 
willing  to  bestow  him  upon  such  a  poor  sinner  as  I  am. 
And  I  am  a  sinner  indeed.  Lord,  take  therefore  this 
opportunity,  and  magnify  thy  grace  in  the  salvation 
of  my  soul,  through  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ.  Amen. 

Chr.  And  did  you  do  as  you  were  bidden? 

Hope.  Yes.  over,  and  over,  and 
Over.  prays. 


Chr.  And  did  the  Father  reveal  the  Son  to  you  ? 
Hope.  No,  not  at  first,  nor  second,  nor  third,  nor 
fourth,  nor  fifth,  no,  nor  at  the  sixth  time  neither. 

Chr.  What  did  you  do  then  ? 

Hope.  What  ?  why  I  could  not  tell  what  to  do. 

Chr.  Had  you  no  thoughts  of  leaving  off  prayin' 
Hope.  Yes;  and  a  hundred  times  twice  told. 

Chr.  And  what  was  the  reason  you  did  not  ? 


176  hopeful’s  account  of  his  conversion. 

Hope.  I  believed  that  it  was  true  which  hath  been 
told  me,  to  wit,  that  without  the  righteousness  of  this 
Christ,  all  the  world  could  not  save  me ;  and  therefore, 

He  durst  „ot  leave  th°Ught  1  with  mySelf-  if  1  leave  Off,  I  die, 

off  praying,  and  and  I  can  but  die  at  the  throne  of  grace. 
why‘  And  withal  this  came  into  my  mind,  “  If 

it  tarry,  wait  for  it;  because  it  will  surely  come,  and 
will  not  tarry,”  Hab.  2  :  3.  So  I  continued  praying 
until  the  Father  showed  me  his  Son. 

Chr.  And  how  was  he  revealed  unto  you? 

Hope.  I  did  not  see  him  with  my  bodily  eyes,  but 

Christ  is  revealed  with  the  eyes  of  my  understanding,  Eph. 
to  him,  and  how.  \  .  ig?  19 ;  and  thus  it  was.  One  day  I 

was  very  sad,  I  think  sadder  than  at  any  one  time  in 
my  life :  and  this  sadness  was  through  a  fresh  sight  oJ 
the  greatness  and  vileness  of  my  sins.  And  as  I  was 
then  looking  for  nothing  but  hell,  and  the  everlasting 
damnation  of  my  soul,  suddenly,  as  I  thought,  I  saw 
the  Lord  Jesus  looking  down  from  heaven  upon  me, 
and  saying,  “  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
thou  shalt  be  saved,”  Acts,  16  :  31. 

But  I  replied,  Lord,  I  am  a  great,  a  very  great  sin- 
ner:  and  he  answered,  “My  grace  is  sufficient  for 
thee,”  2  Cor.  12  :  9.  Then  I  said,  “  But,  Lord,  what 
is  believing?”  And  then  I  saw  from  that  saying,  “  He 
that  comelh  to  me  shall  never  hunger,  and  he  that  be- 
lieveth  on  me  shall  never  thirst,”  John  6  :  35,  that  be¬ 
lieving  and  coming  was  all  one ;  and  that  he  that  came, 
that  is,  that  ran  out  in  his  heart  and  affections  after 
salvation  by  Christ,  he  indeed  believed  in  Christ.  Then 
the  water  stood  in  mine  eyes,  and  I  asked  further. 
“  But,  Lord,  may  such  a  great  sinner  as  I  am  be  in- 
feed  accepted  of  thee,  and  be  saved  by  thee?”  And  I 

^ard  him  say,  “  And  him  that  cometh  to  me  I  will  in 


hopeful’s  account  of  his  conversion.  177 

no  wise  cast  out,”  John  6  :  37.  Then  I  said,  But  how, 
Lord,  must  I  consider  of  thee  in  my  coming  to  thee, 
that  my  faith  may  be  placed  aright  upon  thee  ?  Then 
he  said,  “Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save 
sinners,”  1  Tim.  1  :  15.  He  is  the  end  of  the  law  for 
righteousness  to  every  one  that  believes,  Rom.  10  :  4, 
and  chap.  4.  He  died  for  our  sins,  and  rose  again  for 
our  justification,  Rom.  4  :  25.  He  loved  us,  and  washed 
us  from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood,  Rev.  1:5.  He  is 
Mediator  between  God  and  us,  1  Tim.  2:5.  He  ever 
iiveth  to  make  intercession  for  us,  Heb.  7  :  25.  From 
all  which  I  gathered,  that  I  must  look  for  righteousness 
in  his  person,  and  fcr  satisfaction  for  my  sins  by  his 
blood:  that  what  he  did  in  obedience  to  his  Father’s 
'aw,  and  in  submitting  to  the  penalty  thereof,  was  not 
nr  himself,  but  for  him  that  will  accept  it  for  his  salva¬ 
tion,  and  be  thankful.  And  now  was  my  heart  full  of 
joy,  mine  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  mine  affections  run¬ 
ning  over  with  love  to  the  name,  people,  and  ways  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

Chr.  This  was  a  revelation  of  Christ  to  your  soul 
indeed.  But  tell  me  particularly  what  effect  this  had 
upon  your  spirits. 

Hope.  It  made  me  see  that  all  the  world,  notwith¬ 
standing  all  the  righteousness  thereof,  is  in  a  state  of 
condemnation.  It  made  me  see  that  God  the  Father, 
though  he  be  just,  can  justly  justify  the  coming  sin¬ 
ner.  It  made  me  greatly  ashamed  of  the  vileness  of 
my  former  life,  and  confounded  me  with  the  sense  of 
mine  own  ignorance;  for  there  never  came  thought 
into  my  heart  before  now  that  showed  me  so  the  beau¬ 
ty  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  made  me  love  a  holy  life,  and 
long  to  do  something  for  the  honor  and  glory  of  the 
name  of  the  Lord  Jesus.  Yea,  I  thought  that  had  I 


178 


IGNORANCE  COMES  CP  AGAIN. 


now  a  thousand  gallons  of  blood  in  my  body,  I  could 
spill  it  all  for  the  sake  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  Hopeful  looked  back, 
and  saw  Ignorance,  whom  they  had  left  behind,  com¬ 
ing  after.  Look,  said  he  to  Christian,  how  far  yonder 
youngster  loitereth  behind. 

Chr.  Ay,  ay,  I  see  him;  he  careth  not  for  our 
company. 

Hope.  But  I  trow  it  would  not  have  hurt  him  had  he 
kept  pace  with  us  hitherto. 

Cur.  That  is  true;  but  I  warrant  you  he  thinketh 
otherwise. 

Hope.  That  I  think  he  doth ;  but,  however,  let  us 
tarry  for  him.  So  they  did. 

Then  Christian  said  to  him,  Come 

Young  Ignorance  ■,  , .  , 

comes  up  again,  away ,  man  ;  why  did  you  stay  so 

behind  ? 

Ignor.  I  take  my  pleasure  in  walking  alone,  even 
more  a  great  deal  than  in  company,  unless  I  like  it 
the  better. 

Then  said  Christian  to  Hopeful,  (but  softly,)  Did 
I  not  tell  you  he  cared  not  for  our  company?  But 
however,  come  up,  and  let  us  talk  away  the  time  in 
this  solitary  place.  Then,  directing  his  speech  to 
Ignorance,  he  said,  Come,  how  do  you  do?  How 
stands  it  between  God  and  your  soul  now  ? 

Ignor.  I  hope,  well ;  for  lam  always  full  of  good 

ignorance’s  hope,  motions  that  come  into  my  mind  to 
and  the  ground  ofu.  comfort  me  as  I  walk. 

Chr.  What  good  motions  ?  pray  tell  us. 

Ignor.  Why,  I  think  of  God  and  heaven. 

Ciir.  So  do  the  devils  and  damned  souls. 

Ignor.  But  I  think  of  them,  and  desire  them. 

Chr.  So  do  many  that  are  never  like  to  come  there. 


DISCOURSE  OF  CHRISTIAN  AND  IGNORANCE.  179 

<£  The  soul  of  the  sluggard  desires,  and  hath  nothing,” 
Prov.  13:  4. 

Ignor.  But  I  think  of  them,  and  leave  all  for  them, 

Chr.  That  I  doubt ;  for  to  leave  all  is  a  very  hard 
matter ;  yea,  a  harder  matter  than  many  are  aware  of. 
But  why,  or  by  what,  art  thou  persuaded  that  thou 
hast  left  all  for  God  and  heaven  ? 

Ignor.  My  heart  tells  me  so. 

Chr.  The  wise  man  says,  “  He  that  trusts  in  his 
own  heart  is  a  fool,”  Prov.  28 :  26. 

Ignor.  That  is  spoken  of  an  evil  heart ;  but  mine  l* 
a  good  one. 

Chr.  But  how  dost  thou  prove  that? 

Ignor.  It  comforts  me  in  hopes  of  heaven. 

Chr.  That  may  be  through  its  deceitfulness ;  for  a 
man’s  heart  may  minister  comfort  to  him  in  the  hopes 
of  that  thing  for  which  he  has  yet  no  ground  to  hope. 

Ignor.  But  my  heart  and  life  agree  together ;  and 
therefore  my  hope  is  well  grounded. 

Chr.  Who  told  thee  that  thy  heart  and  life  agree 
together? 

Ignor.  My  heart  tells  me  so. 

Chr.  “  Ask  my  fellow  if  I  be  a  thief.”  Thy 
heart  tells  thee  so !  Except  the  word  of  God  beareth 
witness  in  this  matter,  other  testimony  is  of  no  value. 

Ignor.  But  is  it  not  a  good  heart  that  hath  good 
thoughts  ?  and  is  not  that  a  good  life  that  is  according 
to  God’s  commandments  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  that  is  a  good  heart  that  hath  good 
thoughts,  and  that  is  a  good  life  that  is  according  to 
God’s  commandments;  but  it  is  one  thing  indeed  to 
have  these,  and  another  thing  only  to  think  so. 

Ignor.  Pray,  what  count  you  good  thoughts,  and 
a  life  according  to  God’s  commandments? 


180  DISCOURSE  OF  CHRISTIAN  AND  IGNORANCE. 

Chr.  There  are  good  thoughts  of  divers  kinds; 
some  respecting  ourselves,  some  God,  some  Christ, 
and  some  other  things. 

Ignor.  What  be  good  thoughts  respecting  ourselves  ? 

Chr.  Such  as  agree  with  the  word  What  are  good 
of  God.  thoughts. 

Ignor.  When  do  our  thoughts  of  ourselves  agree 
with  the  word  of  God? 

Chr.  When  we  pass  the  same  judgment  upon  our 
selves  which  the  word  passes.  To  explain  myself : 
the  word  of  God  saith  of  persons  in  a  natural  condi¬ 
tion,  “There  is  none  righteous,  there  is  none  that 
doeth  good.”  It  saith  also,  that  “  every  imagination 
of  the  heart  of  man  is  only  evil,  and  that  continually,” 
Gen.  6:5;  Rom.  3.  And  again,  “  The  imagination  of 
man’s  heart  is  evil  from  his  youth,”  Gen.  8 :  21.  Now, 
then,  when  we  think  thus  of  ourselves,  having  sense 
thereof,  then  are  our  thoughts  good  ones,  because 
according  to  the  word  of  God. 

Ignor.  I  will  never  believe  that  my  heart  is  thus  bad, 

Chr.  Therefore  thou  never  hadst  one  good  thought 
concerning  thyself  in  thy  life.  Rut  let  me  go  on.  As 
the  word  passeth  a  judgment  upon  our  hearts,  so  it 
passeth  a  judgment  upon  our  ways ;  and  when  the 
thoughts  of  our  hearts  and  ways  agree  with  the  judg¬ 
ment  which  the  word  giveth  of  both,  then  are  both 
good,  because  agreeing  thereto. 

Ignor.  Make  out  vour  meaning. 

Chr.  Why,  the  word  of  God  saith,  that  man’s  ways 
are  crooked  ways,  not  good,  but  perverse :  it  saith, 
they  are  naturally  out  of  the  good  way,  that  they  have 
not  known  it,  Psalm  125  :  5;  Prov.  2  :  15  ;  Rom.  3:  12. 
Now  when  a  man  thus  thinketh  of  his  ways,  I  say 
when  he  doth  sensibly,  and  with  heart-humiliation, 
thus  think,  then  hath  he  good  thoughts  of  his  own 


DISCOURSE  OP  CHRISTIAN  AND  IGNORANCE.  181 

Ways,  because  his  thoughts  now  agree  with  the  judg¬ 
ment  of  the  word  of  God. 

Ignor.  What  are  good  thoughts  concerning  God  ? 

Chr.  Even,  as  I  have  said  concerning  ourselves, 
when  our  thoughts  of  God  do  agree  with  what  the 
word  saith  of  him  ;  and  that  is,  when  we  think  of  his 
being  and  attributes  as  the  word  hath  taught;  of 
which  I  cannot  now  discourse  at  large.  But  to  speak 
of  him  with  reference  to  us :  then  have  we  right 
thoughts  of  God  when  we  think  that  he  knows  us  bet¬ 
ter  than  we  know  ourselves,  and  can  see  sin  in  us  when 
and  where  we  can  see  none  in  ourselves:  when  we 
think  he  knows  our  inmost  thoughts,  and  that  our 
heart,  with  all  its  depths,  is  always  open  unto  his  eyes  ; 
also  when  we  think  that  all  our  righteousness  stinks 
in  his  nostrils,  and  that  therefore  he  cannot  abide  to 
see  us  stand  before  him  in  any  confidence,  even  of  all 
our  best  performances. 

Ignor.  Do  you  think  that  I  am  such  a  tool  as  to 
*hink  that  God  can  see  no  further  than  I;  or  that  I 
would  come  up  to  God  in  the  best  of  my  performances  ? 

Ciir.  Why,  how  dost  thou  think  in  this  matter? 

Ignor.  Why,  to  be  short,  I  think  I  must  believe  in 
Christ  for  justification. 

Chr.  I-Iow  !  think  thou  must  believe  in  Christ,  when 
hou  seest  not  thy  need  of  him  !  Thou  neither  seest 
thy  original  nor  actual  infirmities;  but  hast  such  an 
opinion  of  thyself,  and  of  what  thou  doest,  as  plainly 
fenders  thee  to  be  one  that  did  never  see  a  necessity 
ol  Christ’s  personal  righteousness  to  justify  thee  be¬ 
fore  God.  How,  then,  dost  thou  say.  I  believe  m 
Christ? 

Ignor.  I  believe  well  enough  for  all  that 

Ciir.  Howr  dost  thou  believe  ? 

16 


182  DISCOURSE  OF  CHRISTIAN  AND  IGNORANCE. 

Ignor.  I  believe  that  Christ  died  for  sinners;  and 
The  faith  of  i s-  that  I  shall  be  justified  before  God  from 
nomice.  the  curse,  through  his  gracious  accep¬ 

tance  of  my  obedience  to  his  law.  Or  thus,  Christ 
makes  my  duties,  that  are  religious,  acceptable  to  his 
Father  by  virtue  of  his  merits,  and  so  shall  I  be  jus¬ 
tified. 

Chr.  Let  me  give  an  answer  to  this  confession  of 
thy  faith : 

1.  Thou  believest  with  a  fantastical  faith;  for  this 
faith  is  no  where  described  in  the  word. 

2.  Thou  believest  with  a  false  faith ;  because  it  taketh 
justification  from  the  personal  righteousness  of  Christ, 
and  applies  it  to  thy  own. 

3.  This  faith  maketh  not  Christ  a  justifier  of  thy 
person,  but  of  thy  actions;  and  of  thy  person  for  thy 
actions5  sake,  which  is  false. 

4.  Therefore  this  faith  is  deceitful,  even  such  as  will 
leave  thee  under  wrath  in  the  day  of  God  Almighty : 
for  true  justifying  faith  puts  the  soul,  as  sensible  of  its 
lost  condition  by  the  law,  upon  flying  for  refuge  unto 
Christ’s  righteousness;  (which  righteousness  of  his  is 
not  an  act  of  grace  by  which  he  maketh,  for  justifica¬ 
tion,  thy  obedience  accepted  with  God,  but  his  per¬ 
sonal  obedience  to  the  law,  in  doing  and  suffering  for 
us  what  that  required  at  our  hands;)  this  righteous¬ 
ness,  I  say,  true  faith  accepteth ;  under  the  skirt  of 
which  the  soul  being  shrouded,  and  by  it  presented  as 
spotless  before  God,  it  is  accepted,  and  acquitted  from 
condemnation. 

Ignor.  What !  would  you  have  us  trust  to  what 
Christ  in  his  own  person  has  done  without  us?  This 
conceit  would  loosen  the  reins  of  our  lust,  and  tolerate 
us  to  live  as  we  list :  for  what  matter  how  we  live,  if 


THE  FOLLY  OF  IGNORANCE. 


183 


we  may  be  justified  by  Christ’s  personal  righteousness 
from  all,  when  we  believe  it? 

Chr.  Ignorance  is  thy  name,  and  as  thy  name  is,  so 
art  thou :  even  this  thy  answer  demonstrated  what  I 
say.  Ignorant  thou  art  of  what  justifying  righteous¬ 
ness  is,  and  as  ignorant  how  to  secure  thy  soul  through 
the  faith  of  it,  from  the  heavy  wrath  of  God.  ,Yea, 
thou  also  art  ignorant  of  the  true  effects  of  saving  faith 
in  this  righteousness  of  Christ,  which  is  to  bow  and 
win  over  the  heart  to  God  in  Christ,  to  love  his  name, 
his  word,  ways,  and  people,  and  not  as  thou  ignorantly 
imaginest. 

Hope.  Ask  him  if  ever  he  had  Christ  revealed  to 
him  from  heaven. 

Ignor.  What !  you  are  a  man  for  revelations !  I  be¬ 
lieve,  that  what  both  you  and  all  the  ignorance  jaugles 
rest  of  you  say  about  that  matter,  is  but  with  them- 
the  fruit  of  distracted  brains. 

Hope.  Why,  man !  Christ  is  so  hid  in  God  from  the 
natural  apprehensions  of  all  flesh,  that  he  cannot  by 
any  man  be  savingly  known,  unless  God  the  Father 
reveals  him  to  him. 

Ignor.  That  is  your  faith,  but  not  mine ;  yet  mine, 
I  doubt  not,  is  as  good  as  yours,  though  He  gpeaks  re 
I  have  not  in  my  head  so  many  whim-  proachfuiiyofwhat 

•  he  knows  not. 

sies  as  you. 

Chr.  Give  me  leave  to  put  in  a  word.  You  ought 
not  so  slightly  to  speak  of  this  matter :  for  this  I  will 
boldly  affirm,  (even  as  my  good  companion  hath  done,) 
that  no  man  can  know  Jesus  Christ  but  by  the  revela¬ 
tion  of  the  Father:  yea,  and  faith  too,  by  which  the 
soul  layeth  hold  upon  Christ  (if  it  be  right)  must  be 
wrought  by  the  exceeding  greatness  of  his  mighty 
power,  Matt.  11  :  27;  1  Cor.  12  :  3;  Eph.  I  :  17 — 19; 


184  IGNORANCE  STAYS  BEHIND  THE  PILGRIMS. 

the  working  of  which  faith,  I  perceive,  poor  Ignorance, 
thou  art  ignorant  of.  Be  awakened  then,  see  thine 
own  wretchedness,  and  fly  to  the  Lord  Jesus ;  and  by 
his  righteousness,  which  is  the  righteousness  of  God, 
(for  he  himself  is  God,)  thou  shalt  be  delivered  from 
condemnation. 

Ignor.  'You  go  so  fast,  I  cannot  keep  pace  with  you ; 

m,.  „  ,  ,  do  yon  go  on  before :  I  must  stay  awhile 

The  talk  broke  up.  .  J 

behind. 

Then  they  said — 

Well,  Ignorance,  wilt  thou  yet  foolish  be, 

To  slight  good  counsel,  ten  times  given  thee? 

And  if  thou  yet  refuse  it,  thou  shalt  know 
Ere  long  the  evil  of  thy  doing  so. 

Remember,  man,  in  time;  stop,  do  not  fear; 

Good  counsel,  taken  well,  saves;  therefore  hear. 

But  if  thou  yet  shall  slight  it,  thou  wilt  be 
The  loser,  Ignorance,  I’ll  warrant  thee. 

Then  Christian  addressed  himself  thus  to  his  fellow . 

Chr.  Well,  come,  my  good  Hopeful,  I  perceive  that 
thou  and  I  must  walk  by  ourselves  again. 

So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on  apace  be¬ 
fore,  and  Ignorance  lie  came  hobbling  after.  Then 
said  Christian  to  his  companion,  I  much  pity  this  poor 
man:  it  will  certainly  go  ill  with  him  at  last. 

Hope.  Alas !  there  are  abundance  in  our  town  in  his 
condition,  whole  families,  yea,  whole  streets,  and  that 
of  pilgrims  too;  and  if  there  be  so  many  in  our  parts, 
how  many  think  you  must  there  be  in  the  place 
where  he  was  born  ! 

Chr.  Indeed,  the  word  saith,  “He  hath  blinded 
their  eyes,  lest  they  should  see,”  &c. 

But,  now  we  are  by  ourselves,  what  do  you  think  of 
such  men  ?  have  they  at  no  time,  think  you,  convic- 


TALK  OP  CHRISTIAN  AND  HOPEFUL.  185 

tions  of  sin,  and  so,  consequently,  fears  that  their 
state  is  dangerous  ? 

Hope.  Nay,  do  you  answer  that  question  for  your¬ 
self,  for  you  are  the  elder  man. 

Chr.  Then  I  say,  sometimes  (as  I  think)  they  may; 
but  they  being  naturally  ignorant,  understand  not  that 
such  convictions  tend  to  their  good;’  and  therefore 
they  do  desperately  seek  to  stifle  them,  and  presump¬ 
tuously  continue  to  flatter  themselves  in  the  way  of 
their  own  hearts. 

Hope.  I  do  believe,  as  you  say,  that  fear  tends  much 
to  men’s  good,  and  to  make  them  right  The  good  use  of 
at  their  beginning  to  go  on  pilgrimage.  fcar- 

Chr.  V*  ithout  all  doubt  it  doth,  if  it  be  right:  for  so 
says  the  word,  “  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning 
of  wisdom,”  Job,  28:  28;  Psalm  111:  10;  Prov.  1: 
7;  9:  10. 

Hope.  How  will  you  describe  right  fear? 

Chr.  True  or  right  fear  is  discovered 
by  three  things  :  Right  fear* 

1.  By  its  rise :  it  is  caused  by  saving  convictions 
for  sin. 

2.  It  driveth  the  soul  to  lay  fast  hold  of  Christ  for 
salvation. 

3.  It  begettetli  and  continueth  in  the  soul  a  great 
re\eience  of  Cod,  his  word,  and  ways;  keeping  it 
tender,  and  making  it  afraid  to  turn  from  them*  to 
the  right  hand  or  to  the  left,  to  any  thing  that  may 
dishonor  God,  break  its  peace,  grieve  the  Spirit,  or 
cause  the  enemy  to  speak  reproachfully. 

Hope.  Well  said ;  I  believe  you  have  said  the 
truth.  Are  we  now  almost  got  past  the  Enchanted 
Ground  ? 

Chr.  Why  ?  are  you  weary  of  this  discourse* 

16* 


TALK  OF  ONE  TEMPORARY. 


.86 

Hope.  No,  verily,  but  that  I  would  know  where 
we  are. 

Chr.  We  have  not  now  above  two  miles  further  to 
go  thereon.  But  let  us  return  to  our  matter. 

Now  the  ignorant  know  not  that  such  convictions  as 
tend  to  put  them  in  fear,  are  for  their 
person^  do"*tifie  good,  and  therefore  they  seek  to  stifle 

conviction.  them. 

Hope.  IIow  do  they  seek  to  stifle  them  ? 

Chr.  1.  They  think  that  those  fears  are  wrought 
by  the  devil,  (though  indeed  they  are  wrought  of 
God,)  and,  thinking  so,  they  resist  them,  as  things 
that  directly  tend  to  their  overthrow.  2.  They  also 
think  that  these  fears  tend  to  the  spoiling  of  their 
faith  5  (when,  alas  for  them,  poor  men  that  they  are, 
they  have  none  at  all  ;)  and  therefore  they  harden 
their  hearts  against  them.  3.  They  presume  they 
ought  not  to  fear,  and  therefore,  in  despite  of  them, 
wax  presumptuously  confident.  4.  They  see  that 
those  fears  tend  to  take  away  from  them  their  pitiful 
old  self-holiness,  and  therefore  they  resist  them  with 
all  their  might. 

Hope.  I  know  something  of  this  myself;  for  before 
I  knew  myself  it  was  so  with  me. 

Chr.  Well,  we  will  leave,  at  this  time,  our  neighbor 
Ignorance  by  himself,  and  fall  upon  another  profitable 
question. 

Hope.  With  all  my  heart ;  but  you  shall  still  begin. 

Chr.  Well,  then,  did  you  know,  about  ten  years 

Talk  about  one  ag°,  one  Temporary  in  your  parts,  who 
Temporary.  was  a  forward  man  in  religion  then  ? 

Hope.  Know  him!  yes;  he  dwelt  in  Graceless,  a 
town  about  two  miles  olT  of  Honesty,  and  he  dwelt 
next  door  to  one  Turnback. 


TALK  OF  ONE  TEMPORARY. 


187 

Cfir.  Right ;  he  dwelt  under  the  same  roof  with 
him.  Well,  that  man  was  much  awakened  once:  I 
believe  that  then  he  had  some  sight  of  his  sins,  and 
of  the  wages  that  were  due  thereto. 

Hope.  I  am  of  your  mind,  for  (my  house  not  being 
above  three  miles  from  him)  he  would  ofttimes  come 
to  me,  and  that  with  many  tears.  Truly  I  pitied  the 
man,  and  was  not  altogether  without  hope  of  him: 
but  one  may  see,  it  is  not  every  one  that  cries,  “  Lord, 
Lord  1” 

Chr.  lie  told  me  once  that  he  was  resolved  to  go 
on  pilgrimage,  as  we  go  now;  but  all  on  a  sudden  he 
grew  acquainted  with  one  Save-self,  and  then  he 
became  a  stranger  to  me. 

Hope.  Now,  since  we  are  talking  about  him,  let  us 
a  little  inquire  into  the  reason  of  the  sudden  back¬ 
sliding  of  him  and  such  others. 

Chr.  It  may  be  very  profitable  ;  but  do  you  begin. 

Hope.  Well,  then,  there  are,  in  my  judgment,  four 
reasons  for  it : 

1.  Though  the  consciences  of  such  men  are  awa¬ 
kened,  yet  their  minds  are  not  changed :  therefore, 
when  the  power  of  guilt  weareth  away,  that  which 
provoked  them  to  be  religious  ceaseth;  wherefore 
they  naturally  turn  to  their  old  course  again  ;  even  as 
we  see  the  dog  that  is  sick  of  what  he  hath  eaten,  so 
long  as  his  sickness  prevails,  he  vomits  and  casts  up 
all ;  not  that  he  dotn  this  of  a  free  mind,  (if  we  may 
say  a  dog  has  a  mind,)  but  because  it  troubleth  his 
stomach:  but  now,  when  his  sickness  is  over,  and  so 
his  stomach  eased,  his  desires  being  not  at  all  alien¬ 
ated  fiom  his  vomit,  he  turns  him  about,  and  licks  up 
all ;  and  so  it  is  true  which  is  written,  “  The  dog  is 
turned  to  his  own  vomit  again,”  2  Pet.  2 :  22.  Thus, 


188 


TALK  OF  ONE  TEMPORARY. 


I  say,  being  hot  for  heaven,  by  virtue  only  of  the 
sense  and  fear  of  the  torments  of  hell,  as  their  sense 
of  hell  and  fear  of  damnation  chills  and  cools,  so  their 
desires  for  heaven  and  salvation  cool  also.  So  then  it 
comes  to  pass,  that  when  their  guilt  and  fear  is  gone, 
their  desires  for  heaven  and  happiness  die,  and  they 
return  to  their  course  again. 

2.  Another  reason  is,  they  have  slavish  fears  that 
do  overmaster  them :  I  speak  now  of  the  fears 
that  they  have  of  men :  “  For  the  fear  of  man  bringeth 
a  snare,”  Prov.  29 :  25.  So  then,  though  they  seem 
to  be  hot  for  heaven  so  long  as  the  flames  of  hell 
are  about  their  ears,  yet,  when  that  terror  is  a  little 
over,  they  betake  themselves  to  second  thoughts, 
namely,  that  it  is  good  to  be  wise,  and  not  to  run  (for 
they  know  not  what)  the  hazard  of  losing  all,  or  at 
least  of  bringing  themselves  into  unavoidable  and 
unnecessary  troubles;  and  so  they  fall  in  with  the 
world  again. 

3.  The  shame  that  attends  religion  lies  also  as  a 
block  in  their  way  :  they  are  proud  and  haughty,  and 
religion  in  their  eye  is  low  and  contemptible :  therefore 
when  they  have  lost  their  sense  of  hell  and  the  wrath 
to  come,  they  return  again  to  their  former  course. 

4.  Guilt,  and  to  meditate  terror,  are  grievous  to 
them  ;  they  like  not  to  see  their  misery  before  they 
come  into  it;  though  perhaps  the  sight  of  it  first,  if 
they  loved  that  sight,  might  make  them  fly  whither 
the  righteous  fly,  and  are  safe ;  but  because  they  do, 
as  I  hinted  before,  even  shun  the  thoughts  of  guilt 
and  terror,  therefore,  when  once  they  are  rid  of 
their  awakenings  about  the  terrors  and  wrath  of  God, 
they  harden  their  hearts  gladly,  and  choose  such  ways 
as  will  harden  them  more  and  more. 


TALK  OF  ONE  TEMPORARY. 


189 

Cur.  \  ou  are  pretty  near  the  business,  for  the  bot¬ 
tom  of  ali  is  for  want  of  a  change  in  their  mind  and 
will.  And  therefore  they  are  but  like  the  felon  that 
standeth  before  the  judge:  he  quakes  and  trembles, 
and  seems  to  repent  most  heartily,  but  the  bottom  of 
ali  is  the  fear  of  the  halter ;  not  that  he  hath  any 
detestation  of  the  offence,  as  is  evident  •  because,  let 
but  this  man  ha\e  his  liberty,  and  he  will  be  a  thief, 
and  so  a  rogue  still;  whereas,  if  his  mind  was 
changed,  he  would  be  otherwise. 

Hope.  Now  I  have  showed  you  the  reasons  of  their 
going  back,  do  you  show  me  the  manner  thereof. 

Chr.  So  I  will  willingly  : 

1.  They  draw  off  their  thoughts,  all  that  they  may, 

from  the  remembrance  of  God,  death,  „ow  Apos. 
aild  judgment  to  come.  tate  goes  back. 

2.  1  hen  they  cast  off  by  degrees  private  duties,  as 
closet  piayer,  curbing  their  lusts,  watching,  sorrow 
for  sin,  and  the  like. 

3.  Then  they  shun  the  company  oi  lively  and 
warm  Christians. 

4.  After  that,  they  grow  cold  to  public  duty,  as 
hearing,  reading,  godly  confidence,  and  the  like. 

5.  They  then  begin  to  pick  holes,  as  we  say,  in  the 
coats  of  some  of  the  godly,  and  that  devilishly,  that 
they  may  have  a  seeming  color  to  throw  religion  (for 
the  sake  of  some  infirmities  they  have  espied  in  them) 
behind  their  backs. 

6.  Then  they  begin  to  adhere  to,  and  to  associate 
themselves  with,  carnal,  loose,  and  wanton  men. 

7.  They  then  give  way  to  carnal  and  wanton  dis- 
couises  in  secret;  and  glad  are  they  if  they  can  see 
such  things  in  any  that  are  counted  honest,  that  they 
may  the  more  boldly  do  it  through  their  example. 


190 


THE  PILGRIMS  ARRIVE  AT  BEULAH. 


8.  After  this  they  begin  to  play  with  little  sin* 
openly. 

9.  And  then,  being  hardened,  they  show  themselves 
as  they  are.  Thus,  being  launched  again  into  the  gulf 
of  misery,  unless  a  miracle  of  grace  prevent  it,  they 
everlastingly  perish  in  their  own  deceivings. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  by  this  time  the  pil¬ 
grims  were  got  over  the  Enchanted  Ground,  and  en 
tering  into  the  country  of  Beulah,  Isa.  62  :  4 — 12 ;  Cant. 
2  :  10 — 12 ;  whose  air  was  very  sweet  and  pleasant ; 
the  way  lying  directly  through  it,  they  solaced  them¬ 
selves  there  for  a  season.  Yea,  here  they  heard  con  ¬ 
tinually  the  singing  of  birds,  and  saw  every  day  the 
flowers  appear  in  the  earth,  and  heard  the  voice  of  the 
turtle  in  the  land.  In  this  country  the  sun  shineth 
night  and  day:  wherefore  this  was  beyond  the  valley 
of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  and  also  out  of  the  reach  o I 
Giant  Despair ;  neither  could  they  from  this  place  so 
much  as  see  Doubting-Castle.  Here  they  were  within 
sight  of  the  City  they  were  going  to:  also  here  met 
them  some  of  the  inhabitants  thereof;  for  in  this  land 
the  shining  ones  commonly  walked,  be¬ 
cause  it  was  upon  the  borders  of  heaven. 
In  this  land  also  the  contract  between  the  Bride  and 
the  Bridegroom  was  renewed ;  yea,  here,  “  as  tlui 
bridegroom  rejoiceth  over  the  bride,  so  doth  their  God 
rejoice  over  them.”  Here  they  had  no  want  of  corn 
and  wine;  for  in  this  place  they  met  with  abundance 
of  what  they  had  sought  for  in  all  their  pilgrimages. 
Here  they  heard  voices  from  out  of  the  City,  loud 
voices,  saying,  “  Say  ye  to  the  daughter  of  Zion,  Be¬ 
hold,  thy  salvation  cometh !  Behold,  His  reward  is 
with  him !”  Here  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  country 
called  them  “the  holy  people,  the  redeemed  of  the 
.Lord,  sought  out,”  &c. 


THEIR  FEELINGS  IN  BEULAH. 


191 


Now,  as  they  walked  in  this  land,  they  had  more 
rejoicing  than  in  parts  more  remote  from  the  king¬ 
dom  to  which  they  were  bound ;  and  drawing  near  to 
the  City,  they  had  yet  a  more  perfect  view  thereof.  It 
was  budded  of  pearls  and  precious  stones,  also  the 
streets  thereof  were  paved  with  gold ;  so  that,  by  rea¬ 
son  of  the  natural  glory  of  the  City,  and  the  reflection 
of  the  sunbeams  upon  it,  Christian  with  desire  fell  sick  • 
Hopeful  also  had  a  fit  or  two  of  the  same  disease : 
wherefore  here  they  lay  by  it  awhile,  crying  out  be¬ 
cause  of  their  pangs,  “  If  you  see  my  Beloved,  tell 
him  that  I  am  sick  of  love.” 

But,  being  a  little  strengthened,  and  better  able  to 
bear  their  sickness,  they  walked  on  their  way,  and 
came  yet  nearer  and  nearer,  where  were  orchards, 

\  ineyai  ds,  and  gardens,  and  their  gates  opened  into 
the  highway.  Now,  as  they  came  up  to  these  places, 
behold  the  gardener  stood  in  the  way  ;  to  whom  the 
pilgrims  said,  Whose  goodly  vineyards  and  gardens 
are  these?  He  answered,  They  are  the  King’s,  and  are 
planted  here  for  his  own  delights,  and  also  for  the  so¬ 
lace  of  pilgrims.  So  the  gardener  had  them  into  the 
vineyards,  and  bid  them  refresh  themselves  with  the 
dainties,  Deut.  23  :  24  ;  he  also  showed  them  there  the 
King’s  walks  and  the  arbors  where  he  delighteth  to 
be  :  and  here  they  tarried  and  slept. 

Now  I  beheld  in  my  dream  that  they  talked  more 
in  their  sleep  at  this  time  than  ever  they  did  in  all 
their  journey ;  and,  being  in  a  muse  thereabout,  the 
gardener  said  even  to  me,  Wherefore  musest  thou  at 
the  matter ;  it  is  the  nature  of  the  fruit  of  the  grapes 
of  these  vineyards  “  to  go  down  so  sweetly  as  lo°cause 
the  lips  of  them  that  are  asleep  to  speak,”  Cant.  7  :  9. 

So  I  saw  that  when  they  awoke  they  addressed  them- 


1S2  THE  PILGRIMS  REACH  THE  RIVER. 

selves  to  go  up  to  the  City.  But,  as  I  said,  the  reflec¬ 
tion  of  the  sun  upon  the  City  (for  the  City  was  pure 
gold,  Rev.  21  :  18;)  was  so  extremely  glorious  that 
they  could  not  as  yet  with  open  face  behold  it,  but 
through  an  instrument  made  for  that  purpose,  2  Cor. 
3  :  18.  So  I  saw,  that  as  they  went  on,  there  met  them 
two  men  in  raiment  that  shone  like  gold,  also  their 
faces  shone  as  the  light. 

These  men  asked  the  pilgrims  whence  they  came ;v 
and  they  told  them.  They  also  asked  them  where 
they  had  lodged,  what  difficulties  and  dangers,  what 
comforts  and  pleasures,  they  had  met  in  the  way  ;  and 
they  told  them.  Then  said  the  men  that  met  them, 
You  have  but  two  difficulties  more  to  meet  with,  and 
then  you  are  in  the  City. 

Christian  then  and  his  companion  asked  the  men  to 
go  along  with  them :  so  they  told  them  that  they  would ; 
But,  said  they,  you  must  obtain  it  by  your  own  faith. 
So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  on  together  till 
they  came  in  sight  of  the  gate. 

Now  I  further  saw,  that  betwixt  them  and  the  gate 
was  a  river;  but  there  was  no  bridge  to 
Death.  gQ  0Ver ;  and  the  river  was  very  deep. 

At  the  sight  therefore  of  this  river  the  pilgrims  were 
much  stunned;  but  the  men  that  went  with  them 
said,  You  must  go  through  or  you  cannot  come  a* 
the  gate. 

The  pilgrims  then  began  to  inquire  if  there  was  no 
other  way  to  the  gate.  To  which  they  answered,  Yes; 
but  there  hath  not  any,  save  two,  to  wit,  Enoch  and 
Elijah,  been  permitted  to  tread  that  path  since  the 
foundation  of  the  world,  nor  shall  until  the  last  trum¬ 
pet  shall  sound.  The  pilgrims  then,  especially  Chris¬ 
tian,  began  to  despond  in  his  mind,  and  looked  this 


Christian’s  distress  in  the  river. 


193 


way  and  that,  but  no  way  could  be  found  by  them  by 
which  they  might  escape  the  river.  Death  not  welcome 
Then  they  asked  the  men  if  the  waters  1°  ";lture’  lll0l^l‘ 

oy  it  we  o u t 

were  all  ol  a  depth.  They  said,  No;  yet ot  tllis  world  into 
they  could  not  help  them  in  that  case ;  s!"'y' 

For,  said  they,  you  shall  find  it  deeper 
or  shallower  as  you  believe  in  the  King  through  death, 
of  the  place. 

1  hey  then  addressed  themselves  to  the  water,  and 
entering,  Christian  began  to  sink,  and,  crying  out  to 
his  good  friend  Hopeful,  he  said,  I  sink  in  deep  waters; 
the  billows  go  over  my  head,  all  his  waves  go  over 
me.  Selah. 

1  hen  s&id  the  other,  Be  of  good  cheer,  my  brother : 
I  feel  the  bottom,  and  it  is  good.  Then  said  Christian, 
Ah!  my  friend,  the  sorrows  of  death  have  compassed 
me  about,  I  shall  not  see  the  land  that  flows  with  milk 
and  honey.  And  with  that  a  great  dark-  , 

ness  and  horror  fell  upon  Christian,  so  at  the  hour  of 
that  he  could  not  see  before  him.  Also  deatl1’ 
here  he  in  a  great  measure  lost  his  senses,  so  that  he 
could  neither  remember  nor  orderly  talk  of  any  of 
those  sweet  refreshments  that  he  had  met  with  in  the 
way  of  his  pilgrimage.  But  all  the  words  that  he 
spoke  still  tended  to  discover  that  he  had  horror  of 
mind,  and  heart-fears  that  he  should  die  in  that  river, 
and  never  obtain  entrance  in  at  the  gate.  Here  also, 
as  they  that  st-ood  by  perceived,  he  was  much  in  the 
troublesome  thoughts  of  the  sins  that  he  had  com¬ 
mitted,  both  since  and  before  he  began  to  be  a  pilgrim. 
It  was  also  observed,  that  he  was  troubled  with  appari¬ 
tions  of  hobgoblins  and  evil  spirits ;  for  ever  and  aiimi 
he  would  intimate  so  much  by  words. 

Hopeful  therefore  here  had  much  ado  to  keep  his 

17 


194 


THEY  GET  OVER  THE  RIVER. 


brother’s  head  above  water ;  yea,  sometimes  he  would 
be  quite  gone  down,  and  then,  ere  awhile,  he  would 
rise  up  again  half  dead.  Hopeful  also  would  endeavor 
to  comfort  him,  saying,  Brother,  I  see  the  gate,  and 
men  standing  by  to  receive  us;  but  Christian  would 
answer,  It  is  you,  it  is  you  they  wait  for;  you  have 
been  hopeful  ever  since  I  knew  you.  And  so  have 
you,  said  he  to  Christian.  Ah,  brother,  (said  he,)  sure¬ 
ly  if  I  was  right  he  would  now  arise  to  help  me  ;  but 
foi  my  sins  he  hath  brought  me  into  the  snare,  and 
hath  left  me.  Then  said  hopeful,  My  1  mother,  you  have 
quite  forgot  the  text  where  it  is  said  of  the  wicked, 

1  her e  aie  no  bands  in  their  death,  but  their  strength 
is  film  ;  they  are  not  troubled  as  other  men,  neither  are 
they  plagued  like  other  men,”  Psalm  73  :  4,  5.  These 
troubles  and  distresses  that  you  go  through  in  these 
\\ate is,  are  no  sign  that  God  hath  forsaken  you;  but 
are  sent  to  try  you,  whether  you  will  call  to  mind  that 
which  heretofore  you  have  received  of  his  goodness 
and  live  upon  him  in  your  distresses. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  Christian  was  in  a 
muse  awhile.  To  wdiom  also  Hopeful  added  these 
words,  Be  of  good  cheer,  Jesus  Christ  maketh  thee 
whole.  And  with  that  Christian  brake  out  with  a 
Christian  deli-  voice,  Oh,  I  see  him  again ;  and  lie 

fears1  in  death.  LlS  tells  me  “When  thou  passest  through 
the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee;  and 
through  the  rivers,  they  shall  not  overflow  thee,” 
Isaiah,  43  :  2.  1  hen  they  both  took  courage,  and  the 

enemy  was  aftei  that  as  still  as  a  stone,  until  they 
were  gone  over.  Christian  therefore,  presently  found 
ground  to  stand  upon,  and  so  it  followed  that  the  rest 
of  the  river  was  but  shallow.  Thus  they  got  over. 

Now  upon  the  bank  of  the  river,  on  the  other  side, 


THE  OTHER  SIDE  OF  THE  RIVER. 


195 


they  saw  the  two  shining  men  again,  who  there  waited 
for  them.  Wherefore  being  come  out  of  the  river, 
they  saluted  them,  saying,  We  are  min-  Tho  angels  do 
istering  spirits,  sent  forth  to  minister  for  wait  for  them  so 
those  that  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation,  passed  out^of  this 
Thus  they  went  along  toward  the  gate.  wolld- 

Now  you  must  note,  that  the  City  stood  upon  a 
mighty  hill  ;  but  the  pilgrims  went  up  that  hill  with 
ease,  because  they  had  these  two  men  to  lead  them  up 
by  the  arms  :  they  had  likewise  left  their  mortal  gar¬ 
ments  behind  them  in  the  river ;  for  They  have  put 
though  they  went  in  with  them,  they  off  mortality, 
came  out  without  them.  They  therefore  went  up 
here  with  much  agility  and  speed,  though  the  founda¬ 
tion  upon  which  the  City  was  framed  was  higher  than 
the  clouds;  they  therefore  went  up  through  the  re¬ 
gions  of  the  air,  sweetly  talking  as  they  went,  being 
comforted  because  they  safely  got  over  the  river,  and 
had  such  glorious  companions  to  attend  them. 

The  talk  that  they  had  with  the  shining  ones  was 
about  the  glory  of  the  place  ;  who  told  them  that  the 
beauty  and  glory  of  it  was  inexpressible.  There,  said 
they,  is  “  the  Mount  Sion,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  the 
innumerable  company  of  angels,  and  the  spirits  of 
just  men  made  perfect,”  Heb.  12  :  22—24.  You  are 
going  now,  said  tney,  to  the  paradise  of  God,  wherein 
you  shall  see  the  tiee  of  life,  and  eat  of  the  never- 
lading  fi uits  thcieof :  and  when  you  come  there  you 
shall  have  white  robes  given  you,  and  your  walk  and 
talk  shall  be  every  day  wTith  the  King,  even  all  the 
days  of  eternity,  Rev.  2:7.  3:4,  5.  22  :  5..  There 
you  shall  not  see  again  such  things  as  you  saw  when 
you  were  in  the  lower  region  upon  the  earth;  to  wit, 
sorrow,  sickness,  affliction,  and  death  ;  “  For  the  for- 


196  THE  HAPPINESS  OF  HEAVEN  DESCRIBED. 

mer  things  are  passed  away,”  Rev.  21  :  4.  You  are 
going  now  to  Abraham,  to  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  and  to 
the  prophets,  men  that  God  hath  taken  away  from  the 
evil  to  come,  and  that  are  now  “  resting  upon  their 
beds,  each  one  walking  in  his  righteousness.”  The 
men  then  asked,  What  must  we  do  in  the  holy  place? 
To  whom  it  was  answered,  You  must  there  receive 
the  comfort  of  all  your  toil,  and  have  joy  for  all  your 
sorrow ;  you  must  reap  what  you  have  sown,  even  the 
fruit  of  all  your  prayers,  and  tears,  and  sufferings  for 
the  King  by  the  way,  Gal.  6  :  7,  8.  In  that  place  you 
must  wear  crowns  of  gold,  and  enjoy  the  perpetual 
sight  and  vision  of  the  Holy  One ;  for  “  there  you 
shall  see  him  as  he  is,”  1  John,  3  :  2.  There  also  you 
shall  serve  Him  continually  with  praise,  with  shouting 
and  thanksgiving,  whom  you  desired  to  serve  in  the 
world,  though  with  much  difficulty,  because  of  the 
infirmity  of  your  flesh.  There  your  eyes  shall  be  de¬ 
lighted  with  seeing,  and  your  ears  with  hearing  the 
pleasant  voice  of  the  Mighty  One.  There  you  shall 
enjoy  your  friends  again  that  are  gone  thither  before 
you  ;  and  there  you  shall  with  joy  receive  even  every 
one  that  follows  into  the  holy  place  after  you.  There 
also  you  shall  be  clothed  with  glory  and  majesty,  and 
put  in  an  equipage  fit  to  ride  out  with  the  King  of 
Glory.  When  he  shall  come  with  sound  of  trumpet 
in  the  clouds,  as  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind,  you 
shall  come  with  him;  and  when  he  shall  sit  upon  the 
throne  of  judgment,  you  shall  sit  by  him  ;  yea,  and 
when  he  shall  pass  sentence  upon  all  the  workers  of 
iniquity,  let  them  be  angels  or  men,  you  also  shall 
have  a  voice  in  that  judgment,  because  they  were  his 
and  your  enemies.  Also,  when  he  shall  again  return 
to  the  City,  you  shall  go  too  with  sound  of  trumpet, 


the  welcome  of  angels. 


197 


and  be  ever  with  him,  i  Thess.  4  :  13—17  jllr!p  , . 
lo.  ^  Dan.  7  :  9,  10.  1  Cor.  6  :  2,  3.  '  d  ’  H’ 

Now  while  they  were  thus  drawing  toward  in,. 

fomeeUhla  the  h“™ly  host  came  out 

meet  them,  to  whom  it  was  said  by  the  other  two 
snnmg  ones  These  are  the  men  that  have  loved  our 

aU  for'hisni  ^  Were  in  the  'V°r!d’  and  that  have  left 
all  lot  h  s  holy  name ;  and  he  hath  sent  us  to  fetch 

them,  and  we  have  brought  them  thus  far  on  their  de- 

cTeemeHnthe’  f^  ^7-may  g°  in  and  look  ‘heir  Re¬ 
deemer  in  the  face  with  joy.  Then  the  heavenly  host 

*  shout>  saying.  “Blessed  are  they  that  are 

called  to  the  marriage-supper  of  the  Lamb,”  Rev.  19  • 

aevera  o7  thTr  0U.1  a'S°  a‘  th'S  time  t0  ineet  ‘hem 
several  of  the  Ring’s  trumpeters,  clothed  in  white  and 

Inning  raiment,  who  with  melodious  voices  and  loud 

made  even  the  heavens  to  echo  with  their  sound 

ihese  trumpeters  saluted  Christian  and  his  fellow 

ith  ten  thousand  welcomes  from  the  world  •  and  this 

heyduiwuh  shouting  and  sound  of  trumpet. 

side  ’  tlle3;’  Con,passed  ‘hem  round  on  every 

side;  some  went  before,  some  behind,  and  some  on 

the  right  hand,  and  some  on  the  left,  (as  it  were  to 

guard  them  through  the  upper  regions,)  continually 

sounding  as  they  went,  with  melodious  noise,  in  notes 

on  high  :  so  that  the  very  sight  was  to  them  that  could 

behold  it  as  if  heaven  itself  was  come  down  to  meet 

them.  Thus  therefore  they  walked  on  together  •  and 

as  they  walked,  ever  and  anon  these  trumpeters’  even’ 

look  J°y  dUl  S°Und’  W0Uld’  by  mixil,g  'heir  music  with 
"  aad  gesUl,res’  atiH  signify  to  Christian  and  his 
brother  how  welcome  they  were  into  their  company 
and  with  what  gladness  they  came  to  meet  them! 
And  now  were  these  two  men,  as  it  were,  in  heaven 

17*  5 


198  THE  GATE  OF  THE  CELESTIAL  CITY. 

before  they  came  at  it,  being  swallowed  np  with  the 
sight  of  angels,  and  with  hearing  of  their  melodious 
notes.  Here  also  they  had  the  City  itself  in  view; 
and  thought  they  heard  all  the  bells  therein  to  ring,  to 
welcome  them  thereto.  But,  above  all,  the  waim  and 
joyful  thoughts  that  they  had  about  their  own  dwelling 
there  with  such  company,  and  that  for  ever  and  ever, 
oh,  by  what  tongue  or  pen  can  their  glorious  joy  be 
expressed  ! — Thus  they  came  up  to  the  gate. 

Now  when  they  were  come  up  to  the  gate,  there 
was  written  over  it  in  letters  of  gold,  c  Blessed  are 

THEY  THAT  DO  HIS  COMMANDMENTS,  THAT  THEY  MAY 
HAVE  RICHT  TO  THE  TREE  OF  LIFE,  AND  MAY  ENTER  IN 
THROUGH  THE  GATES  INTO  THE  CITY,”  Rev.  -i2  .  14. 

Then  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  the  shining  men  bid 
them  call  at  the  gate  ;  the  which  when  they  did,  some 
from  above  looked  over  the  gate,  to  wit,  Enoch,  Moses, 
and  Elijah,  &e.  to  whom  it  was  said,  These  pilgrims 
are  come  from  the  City  of  Destruction,  for  the  love 
that  they  bear  to  the  King  of  this  place :  and  then  the 
pilgrims  gave  in  unto  them  each  man  his  certificate, 
which  they  had  received  in  the  beginning;  those  there¬ 
fore  were  carried  in  to  the  King,  who,  when  he  had 
read  them,  said,  Where  are  the  men  ?  To  whom  it 
was  answered,  They  are  standing  without  the  gate. 
The  King  then  commanded  to  open  the  gate,  “That 
the  righteous  nation  (said  he)  that  keepeth  truth  may 
enter  in,”  Isaiah,  26  :  2. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  these  two  men  went 
in  at  the  gate ;  and  lo  !  as  they  entered,  they  were 
transfigured  ;  and  they  had  raiment  put  on  that  shone 
like  gold.  There  were  also  that  met  them  with  harps 
and  crowns,  and  gave  them  to  them ;  the  harps  to 
praise  withal,  and  the  crowns  in  token  of  honor 


THE  PILGRIMS  ENTER  THE  CELESTIAL  CITY.  199 

Then  I  heard  in  my  dream  that  all  the  bells  in  the 
City  rang  again  for  joy,  and  that  it  was  said  unto  them, 
“  Enter  ye  into  the  joy  of  our  Lord,”  Matt.  25 :  23. 
I  also  heard  the  men  themselves,  that  they  sang  with 
a  loud  voice,  saying,  “  Blessing,  and  honor,  and  glory, 
and  power,  be  unto  Him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne, 
and  unto  the  Lamb,  for  ever  and  ever,”  Rev.  5  :  13. 

Now,  just  as  the  gates  were  opened  to  let  in  the 
men,  I  looked  in  after  them,  and  behold  the  City 
shone  like  the  sun  ;  the  streets  also  were  paved  with 
gold  ;  and  in  them  walked  many  men,  with  crowns 
on  their  heads,  palms  in  their  hands,  and  golden 
harps,  to  sing  praises  withal. 

They  were  also  of  them  that  had  wings,  and  they 
answered  one  another  without  intermission,  saying, 
Holy,  holy,  holy,  is  the  Lord.  And  after  that  they 
shut  up  the  gates  :  which,  when  I  had  seen,  I  wished 
myself  among  them. 

Now  while  I  was  gazing  upon  all  these  things,  I 
turned  my  head  to  look  back,  and  saw  Ignorance 
come  up  to  the  river  side ;  but  he  soon  ignora„ce  CMne, 
got  over,  and  that  without  half  the  diffi-  up  t0  the  river, 
culty  which  the  other  two  men  met  with.  For  it 
happened  that  there  was  then  in  the  place  one  Vain- 

Hope,  a  ferryman,  that  with  his  boat  vain  Hope  does 
helped  him  over  ;  so  he,  as  the  others  I  ferry  him  over, 
saw,  did  ascend  the  hill,  to  come  up  to  the  gate ;  only 
he  came  alone ;  neither  did  any  meet  him  with  the 
least  encouragement.  When  he  was  come  up  to  the 
gate,  he  looked  up  to  the  writing  that  was  above,  and 
then  began  to  knock,  supposing  that  entrance  should 
have  been  quickly  administered  to  him  ;  but  he  was 
asked  by  the  men  that  looked  over  the  top  of  the  gate, 
WThence  came  you?  and  what  would  you  have?  He 


200 


THE  DREADFUL  END  OF  IGNORANCE. 

answered,  I  have  ate  and  drank  in  the  presence  of  the 
King,  and  he  has  taught  in  our  streets.  Then  they 
asked  him  for  his  certificate,  that  they  might  go  in 
and  show  it  to  the  King:  so  he  fumbled  in  his 
bosom  for  one,  and  found  none.  Then  said  they, 
Have  you  none?  but  the  man  answered  never  a 
word.  So  they  told  the  King,  but  he  would  not  come 
down  to  see  him,  but  commanded  the  two  shining 
ones,  that  conducted  Christian  and  Hopeful  to  the 
City,  to  go  out,  and  take  Ignorance,  and  bind  him, 
band  and  foot,  and  have  him  away.  Then  they  took 
him  up,  and  carried  him  through  the  air,  to  the  door 
that  I  saw  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  put  him  in  there. 
Then  I  saw  that  there  was  a  hell,  even  from  the  gate 
of  heaven,  as  well  as  from  the  City  of  Destruction 
so  I  awoke,  and  behold  it  was  a  dream. 


CONCLUSION. 

Now,  reader,  I  have  told  my  dream  to  thee, 

See  if  thou  canst  interpret  it  to  me, 

Or  to  thyself,  or  neighbor  ;  hut  take  heed 
Of  misinterpreting,  for  that,  instead 
Of  doing  good,  will  but  thyself  abuse  : 

By  misinterpreting,  evil  ensues. 

1  ake  heed  also  that  thou  be  not  extreme 
In  playing  with  the  outside  of  my  dream  ; 

Nor  let  my  figure  or  similitude 
Put  thee  into  a  laughter,  or  a  feud  ; 

Leave  this  for  boys  and  fools;  hut  as  for  thee 
Do  thou  the  substance  of  m.v  matter  see. 

Put  by  the  curtains,  look  within  my  vail, 

Turn  up  my  metaphors,  and  do  uot  fail; 

J  here  if  thou  seest  them,  such  things  thou’lt  Ond 
As  will  be  helpful  to  an  honest  mind. 

What  of  my  dross  thou  fiudest  there,  be  bold 
I  o  throw  away,  but  yet  preserve  the  gold. 

hat  it  my  gold  be  wrapped  up  in  ore  ? 

None  throws  away  the  apple  for  the  core. 

But  ll  thou  slmlt  cast  all  away  us  vain, 

I  know  not  but  ’twill  make  me  dream  again. 


THE 


PILGRIM’S  PROGRESS,  • 

FROM 

THIS  WORLD  TO  THAT  WHICH  IS  TO  COME. 


PART  II. 


DELIVERED  UNDER  THE  SIMILITUDE  OF  A  DREAM. 

Wherein  is  set  forth  the  manner  of  the  setting  out 
of  Christian’s  wife  and  children  ;  their 
dangerous  journey,  and  safe  arrival 
at  the  desired  country. 

“  /  kwce  used  similitudes.” — Hos.  12  •  10. 


✓ 


-  -  * 


) 


THE 


AUTHOR’S  WAY 

OF  SENDING  FORTH  HIS 

SECOND  PART  OF  THE  PILGRIIJ. 


Go  now,  my  little  Book,  to  every  place 
W  here  my  first  Pilgrim  has  but  shown  his  face  ; 

Call  at  their  door :  if  any  say,  Who’s  there  7 
Then  answer  thou,  Christiana  is  here. 

If  they  bid  thee  come  in,  then  enter  thou, 

With  all  thy  boys  ;  and  then,  as  thou  know’st  how, 
Tell  who  they  are,  also  from  whence  they  came  : 
Ferhaps  they’ll  know  them  by  their  looks  or  name : 
But  it  they  should  not,  ask  them  yet  again, 

If  formerly  they  did  not  entertain 
One  Christian,  a  Pilgrim?  If  they  say 
They  did,  and  were  delighted  in  his  way; 

Tnen  let  them  know,  that  these  related  were 
Unto  him  :  yea,  his  wife  and  children  are. 

Tell  them  that  they  have  left  their  house  and  home 
Are  turned  Pilgrims;  seek  a  world  to  come: 

That  they  have  met  with  hardships  in  the  way  : 

That  they  do  meet  with  troubles  night  and  day*: 

That  they  have  trod  on  serpents,  fought  with  devils ; 
Have  also  overcome  a  many  evils: 

Yea,  tell  them  also  of  the  next  who  have, 

Of  love  to  pilgrimage,  been  stout  and  brave 
Defenders  of  that  way;  and  how  they  still 
Befuse  this  world,  to  do  their  Father’s  will. 

Go  tell  them  also  of  those  dainty  things 
That  pilgrimage  unto  the  Pilgrims  brings. 

Let  them  acquainted  be  too,  how;  they°are 


204 


THE  AUTHOR’S  ACCOUNT 


Beloved  of  their  King,  under  his  care  ; 

What  goodly  mansions  he  (or  them  provides, 

Though  they  meet  with  rough  winds  and  swelling  tides; 
How  brave  a  calm  they  will  enjoy  at  last, 

Who  to  their  Lord,  and  by  his  ways  hold  fast. 

Perhaps  with  heart  and  hand  they  will  embrace 
Thee  as  they  did  my  firstling,  and  will  grace 
Thee  and  thy  fellows  with  such  cheer  and  fare 
As  show  well,  they  of  Pilgrims  lovers  are. 

03JECTI0N  r. 

But  how  if  they  will  not  believe  of  me 
That  I  am  truly  thine  ?  ’cause  some  there  be 
That  counterfeit  the  Pilgrim  and  his  name, 

Seek,  by  disguise,  to  seem  the  very  same  ; 

And  by  that  means,  have  brought  themselves  into 
The  hands  and  houses  of  I  know  not  who. 

ANSWER. 

’Tis  true  some  have  of  late,  to  counterfeit 
My  Pilgrim,  to  their  own  my  title  set ; 

Yea,  others  half  my  name,  and  title  too, 

Have  stitched  to  their  books  to  make  them  do: 

But  yet  they,  by  their  features,  do  declare 
Themselves  not  mine  to  be,  whose  e’er  they  are. 

If  such  thou  meet’st  with,  then  thine  only  way 
Before  them  all,  is  to  say  out  thy  say 
In  thine  own  native  language,  which  no  man 
Now  useth,  nor  with  ease  dissemble  can. 

If,  after  all,  they  still  of  you  shall  doubt, 

Thinking  that  you  like  gypsies  go  about, 

In  naughty  wise  the  country  to  defile  ; 

Or  that  you  seek  good  people  to  beguile 
With  things  unwarrantable — send  for  me, 

And  I  will  testify  you  pilgrims  be  ; 

Yea,  I  w  ill  testify  that  only  you 
My  pilgrims  are,  and  that  alone  will  do. 


OF  HIS  SECOND  PART. 


205 


OBJECTION  II. 

But  yet,  perhaps,  I  may  inquire  for  him 
Of  those  who  wish  him  damned  life  and  limb 
What  shall  I  do,  when  I  at  such  a  door 
For  pilgrims  ask,  and  they  shall  rage  the  more  ? 

ANSWER. 

Fright  not  thyself,  my  Book,  for  such  bugbears 
Are  nothing  else  but  ground  for  groundless  fears. 

My  Pilgrim’s  book  has  travell’d  sea  and  land, 

Yet  could  I  never  come  to  understand 
That  it  Avas  slighted,  or  turned  out  of  door, 

By  any  kingdom,  were  they  rich  or  poor. 

In  France  and  Flanders,  where  men  kill  each  other, 
My  pilgrim  is  esteem’d  a  friend,  a  brother. 

In  Holland  too,  ’tis  said,  as  I  am  told, 

My  pilgrim  is  with  some  worth  more  than  gold. 
Highlanders  and  wild  Irish  can  agree 
My  Pilgrim  should  familiar  with  them  be. 

’Tis  in  New  England  under  such  advance, 

Receives  there  so  much  loving  countenance, 

As  to  be  trimm’d,  new  cloth’d,  and  deck’d  with  gems, 
That  it  might  show  its  features  and  its  limbs. 

Yet  more;  so  comely  doth  my  Pilgrim  walk, 

That  of  him  thousands  daily  sing  and  talk. 

If  you  draw  nearer  home,  it  will  appear 
My  Pilgrim  knows  no  ground  of  shame  or  fear. 

City  and  country  will  him  entertain, 

With,  Welcome,  Pilgrim  ;  yea,  they  can’t  refrain 
From  smiling,  if  my  Pilgrim  be  but  by, 

Or  shows  his  head  in  any  company. 

Brave  gallants  do  my  Pilgrim  hug  and  love, 

Esteem  it  much;  yea,  value  it  above 
Things  of  a  greater  bulk  ;  yea,  with  delight, 

Say,  my  lark’s  leg  is  better  than  a  kite. 

Young  ladies  and  young  gentlewomen  too 
Do  no  small  kindness  to  my  Pilgrim  show ; 

18 


206 


THE  AUTHOR’S  ACCOUNT 


Their  cabinets,  their  bosoms,  and  their  hearts, 

My  pilgrim  has,  ’cause  he  to  them  imparts 
His  pretty  riddles  in  such  wholesome  strains 
As  yield  them  prolit  double  to  their  pains 
Of  reading  ;  yea,  I  think  I  may  be  bold 
To  say,  some  prize  him  far  above  their  gold. 

The  very  children  that  do  walk  the  street, 

If  they  do  but  my  holy  Pilgrim  meet, 

Salute  him  will,  will  wish  him  well,  and  say, 

He  is  the  only  stripling  of  the  day. 

They  that  have  never  seen  him,  yet  admire 
What  they  have  heard  of  him,  and  much  desire 
To  have  his  company,  and  hear  him  tell 
Those  pilgrim  stories  which  he  knows  so  well. 

Yea,  some  that  did  love  him  at  the  first, 

But  call’d  him  fool  and  noddy,  say  they  must, 

Now  they  have  seen  and  heard  him,  him  commend  ; 
And  to  those  whom  they  love,  they  do  him  send. 

Wherefore,  my  Second  Part,  thou  need’st  not  to  be 
Afraid  to  show  thy  head :  none  can  hurt  thee 
That  wish  but  well  to  him  that  went  before ; 

Cause  thou  com’st  after  with  a  second  store 
Of  things  as  good,  as  rich,  as  profitable, 

For  young,  for  old,  for  stagg’ring  and  for  stable. 

OBJECTION  III. 

But  some  there  be  that  say,  He  laughs  too  loud. 
And  some  do  say,  His  head  is  in  a  cloud. 

Some  say,  His  words  and  stories  are  so  dark 
They  know  not  how  by  them  to  find  his  mark. 

ANSWER. 

One  may  (I  think)  say,  Both  his  laughs  and  cries 
May  well  be  guess’d  at  by  his  wat’ry  eyes. 

Some  things  are  of  that  nature  as  to  make 
One’s  fancy  chuckle,  while  his  heart  doth  ache. 


o T  HIS  SECOND  PART. 


207 


When  Jacob  saw  his  Rachel  with  the  sheep, 

Me  did,  at  the  same  time,  both  kiss  and  weep 
Whereas  some  say,  A  cloud  is  in  his  head  ; 

.That  doth  but  show  his  wisdom’s  covered 
With  his  own  mantle,  and  to  stir  the  mind 
To  search  well  after  what  it  fain  would  find. 

Things  that  seem  to  be  hid  in  words  obscure, 

Do  but  the  godly  mind  the  more  allure 
To  study  what  those  sayings  should  contain, 

That  speak  to  us  in  such  a  cloudy  strain. 

I  also  know  a  dark  similitude 

Will  on  the  curious  fancy  more  intrude, 

And  will  stick  faster  in  the  heart  and  head 
Than  things  from  similes  not  borrowed. 

Wherefore,  my  Book,  let  no  discouragement 
Hinder  thy  travels:  behold  thou  art  sent 
To  fiiends,  not  foes  ;  to  friends  that  will  give  place 
1.0  thee,  thy  Pilgrims,  and  thy  words  embrace. 

Besides,  what  my  first  Pilgrim  left  conceal’d, 
Thou,  my  brave  second  Pilgrim,  hast  reveal’d  ! 
What  Christian  left  lock’d  up,  and  went  his  way, 
Sweet  Christiana  opens  with  her  key. 

OBJECTION  IV. 

But  some  love  not  the  method  of  your  first : 
Romance  they  count  it,  throw’t  away  as  dust. 

If  1  should  meet  with  such,  what  should  I  say  ? 

Must  I  slight  them  as  they  slight  me,  or  nay  ? 

ANSWER. 

My  Christiana,  if  with  such  thou  meet, 

By  all  means,  in  all  loving  wise  them  greet; 

Render  them  not  reviling  for  revile  : 

But  if  they  frown,  I  prythee,  on  them  smile : 
Perhaps  ’tis  nature,  or  some  ill  report, 

Mas  made  them  thus  despise,  or  thus  retort. 


208  the  author’s  account 

Some  love  no  fish,  some  love  no  cheese  ;  and  some 
Love  not  their  friends,  nor  their  own  house  or  home  : 
Some  start  at  pig,  slight  chicken,  love  not  fowl, 

More  than  they  love  a  cuckoo  or  an  owl. 

Leave  such,  my  Christiana,  to  their  choice, 

And  seek  those  who  to  find  thee  will  rejoice  : 

By  no  means  strive,  but  in  most  humble  wise 
Present  thee  to  them  in  thy  Pilgrim’s  guise. 

Go  then,  my  little  book,  and  show  to  all 
That  entertain  and  bid  thee  welcome  shall, 

What  thou  shalt  keep  close  shut  up  from  the  rest: 
And  wish  what  thou  shalt  show  them  may  be  bless’d 
To  them  for  good,  and  make  them  choose  to  be 
Pilgrims  by  better  far  than  thee  and  me. 

Go  then,  I  say,  tell  all  men  who  thou  art: 

Say,  I  am  Christiana,  and  my  part 

Is  now,  with  my  four  sons,  to  tell  you  what 

It  is  for  men  to  take  a  Pilgrim’s  lot. 

Go  also,  tell  them  who  and  what  they  be 
That  now  do  go  on  pilgrimage  with  thee ; 

Say,  Here’s  my  neighbor  Mercy  ;  she  is  one 
That  has  long  time  with  me  a  pilgrim  gone ; 

Come  see  her  in  her  virgin  face,  and  learn 
’Twixt  idle  one’s  and  pilgrims  to  discern. 

Yea,  let  young  damsels  learn  of  her  to  prize 
The  world  which  is  to  come,  in  any  wise. 

When  little  tripping  maide*ns  follow  God, 

And  leave  old  doating  sinners  to  his  rod, 

’Tis  like  those  days  wherein  the  young  ones  cry’d 
Hosanna?  when  the  old  ones  did  deride. 

Next  tell  them  of  old  Honest,  whom  you  found, 
With  his  white  hairs,  treading  the  Pilgrim’s  ground  i 
Yea,  tell  them  how  plain-hearted  this  man  was ; 

How  after  his  good  Lord  he  bare  the  cross. 

Perhaps  with  some  gray  head  this  may  prevail. 

With  Christ  to  fall  in  love,  and  sin  bewail. 


OF  HIS  SECOND  PART. 


209 


Tell  also  them,  how  Master  Fearing  went 
On  pilgrimage,  and  how  the  lime  he  spent 
In  solitariness,  with  fears  and  cries; 

And  how  at  last  he  won  the  joyful  prize. 

He  was  a  good  man,  though  much  down  in  spirit; 

He  is  a  good  man,  and  doth  life  inherit. 

Tell  them  of  Master  Feeble-mind  also, 

Who  not  before,  but  still  behind  would  go : 

Show  them  also,  how  he  had  like  been  slain, 

And  how  one  Great-Heart  did  his  life  regain. 

1  his  man  was  true  of  heart,  though  weak  in  grace 
One  might  true  godliness  read  in  his  face. 

Then  tell  them  of  Master  Ready-to-Halt, 

A  man  with  crutches,  but  much  without  fault: 

Tell  them  how  Master  Feeble-Mind  and  he 
Did  love,  and  in  opinions,  much  agree  ; 

And  let  all  know,  though  weakness  was  their  chance, 
Yet  sometimes  one  could  sing,  the  other  dance. 

Forget  not  Master  Valiant-for-the-Truth, 

That  man  of  courage,  though  a  very  youth. 

Tell  every  one  his  spirit  was  so  stout 
No  man  could  ever  make  him  face  about ; 

And  how  Great-Heart  and  he  could  not  forbear, 

But  put  down  Doubting  Castle,  slay  Despair  ! 

Overlook  not  Master  Despondency, 

Not  Much  Afraid  his  daughter,  though  (hey  lie 
Under  such  mantles,  as  may  make  them  look 
(With  some)  as  if  their  God  had  them  forsook. 

They  softly  went,  but  sure;  and  at  the  end, 

Fount!  that  the  Lord  of  Pilgrims  was  their  friend. 
When  thou  hast  told  the  world  of  all  these  things,  * 
Then  tin n  about,  my  Book,  and  touch  these  strings; 
Which,  if  but  touched,  will  such  music  make, 

They  II  make  a  cripple  dance,  a  giant  quake. 

Those  riddles  that  lie  ctuch’d  within  thy  breast, 
Freely  propound,  expound ;  and  for  the  rest 

18* 


^10  THE  author’s  ACCOUNT  OF  HIS  SECOND  PART. 

Of  thy  mysterious  lines,  let  them  remain 
For  those  whose  nimble  fancies  shall  them  gain. 

Now  may  this  little  Book  a  blessing  be 
To  those  that  love  this  little  book  and  me ; 

And  may  its  buyer  have  no  cause  to  say, 

His  money  is  but  lost,  or  thrown  away. 

Yea,  may  this  second  Pilgrim  yield  that  fruit 
As  may  with  each  good  Pilgrim’s  fancy  suit ; 

And  may  it  some  persuade  that  go  astray, 

To  turn  their  feet  and  heart  to  the  right  way, 

Is  the  hearty  prayer  of 

The  Author, 

John  Bunyan. 


THE 


PILGRIM’S  PROGRESS, 

Ii\  TIIE  SIMILITUDE  OF  A  DREAM, 


PART  II. 


Courteous  Companions, 

Some  time  since,  to  tell  you  my  dream  that  I  had  of 
Christian  the  pilgrim,  and  of  his  dangerous  journey 
toward  the  Celestial  country,  was  pleasant  to  me,  and 
profitable  to  you.  i  told  you  then  also  what  I  saw 
concerning  his  wife  and  children,  and  how  unwilling 
they  were  to  go  with  him  on  pilgrimage ;  insomuch 
that  he  was  forced  to  go  on  his  progress  without  them  ; 
for  he  durst  not  run  the  danger  of  that  destruction 
which  he  feared  would  come  by  staying  with  them  in 
the  City  of  Destruction :  wherefore,  as  I  then  showed 
you,  he  left  them  and  departed. 

Now  it  hath  so  happened,  through  the  multiplicity 
of  business,  that  I  have  been  much  hindered  and  kept 
back  from  my  wonted  travels  into  those  parts  where 
he  went,  and  so  could  not,  till  now,  obtain  an  oppor 
tunity  to  make  further  inquiry  after  these  whom  he 
left  behind,  that  I  might  give  you  an  account  of  them. 
But  having  had  some  concerns  that  way  of  late,  I 
went  down  again  thitherward.  Now  having  taken  up 
my  lodgings  in  a  wood  about  a  mile  off  the  place,  as 
I  slept,  I  dreamed  again. 


212  DISCOURSE  WITH  MR.  SAGACITY. 

And,  as  I  was  in  my  dream,  behold  an  aged  gentle 
man  came  by  where  I  lay ;  and  because  he  was  lo  go 
some  part  of  the  way  that  I  was  traveling,  methought 
I  got  up  and  went  with  him.  So  as  we  walked,  and  as 
travelers  usually  do,  I  was  as  if  we  fell  into  a  discourse ; 
and  our  talk  happened  to  be  about  Christian  and  his 
travels ;  for  thus  I  began  with  the  old  man  : 

Sir,  said  I,  what  town  is  that  there  below,  that  lietli 

on  the  left  hand  of  our  way  ? 

Then  said  Mr.  Sagacity,  (for  that  was  his  name,)  It 
is  the  City  of  Destruction,  a  populous  place,  but  pos¬ 
sessed  with  a  very  ill-conditioned  and  idle  sort  of 
people. 

I  thought  that  was  that  city,  quoth  I;  I  went  once 
myself  through  that  town;  and  therefore  know  that 

this  report  you  give  of  it  is  true. 

Sag.  Too  true !  I  wish  I  could  speak  truth  in  speak 
ing  better  of  them  that  dwell  therein. 

Well,  sir,  quoth  I,  then  I  perceive  you  to  be  a  well- 
meaning  man,  and  so  one  that  takes  pleasuie  to  hear 
and  tell  of  that  which  is  good.  Pray,  did  you  never 
hear  what  happened  to  a  man  some  time  ago  of  this 
town,  (whose  name  was  Christian,)  that  went  on  a  pil¬ 
grimage  up  toward  the  higher  regions? 

Sag.  Hear  of  him !  Ay,  and  I  also  heard  of  the  mo¬ 
lestations,  troubles,  wars,  captivities,  cries,  gioans, 
frights,  and  fears,  that  he  met  with  and  had  in  his 
journey.  Besides,  I  must  tell  you,  all  our  country 
rings  of  him  :  there  are  but  few  houses  that  have  heard 
of  him  and  his  doings  but  have  sought  after  and  got 
the  records  of  his  pilgrimage;  yea,  I  think  I  may  say, 
that  his  hazardous  journey  has  got  many  well-wishers 
to  his  ways ;  for,  though  when  he  was  here  he  was 
fool  in  every  man’s  mouth,  yet  now  he  is  gone  he  is 


THE  HAPPINESS  OF  CHRISTIAN. 


213 


highly  commended  of  all.  For  ’tis  said 

he  lives  bravely  where  he  is :  yea,  many  Christians  are  well 

J  j  i  j  spoken  of  when 

of  them  that  are  resolved  never  to  run  gone,  though  caii- 
his  hazards,  yet  have  their  mouths  wa-  are^erV^0  tUey 
ter  at  his  gains. 

They  may,  quoth  I,  well  think,  if  they  think  any 
thing  that  is  true,  that  he  liveth  well  where  he  is;  for 
he  now  lives  at,  and  in  the  Fountain  of  life,  and  has 
vvliat  he  has  without  labor  and  sorrow,  for  there  is  no 
grief  mixed  therewith.  But,  pray  what  talk  have  the 
people  about  him  ? 

Sag.  Talk!  the  people  talk  strangely  about  him: 
some  say  that  he  now  walks  in  white,  Rev.  3:4;  that 
he  has  a  chain  of  gold  about  his  neck;  that  he  has  a 
crown  of  gold,  beset  with  pearls,  upon  his  head  :  others 
say,  that  the  shining  ones,  who  sometimes  showed 
themselves  to  him  in  his  journey,  are  become  his  com¬ 
panions,  and  that  he  is  as  familiar  with  them  in  the 
c  .ace  where  he  is,  as  here  one  neighbor  is  with  ano¬ 
ther.  Besides,  it  is  confidently  affirmed  concerning 
him,  that  the  King  of  the  place  where  he  is  has  be¬ 
stowed  upon  him  already  a  very  rich  and'  pleasant 
dwelling  at  court,  and  that  he  every  day  eateth.  and 
drinketh,  and  walketh  and  talketh  with  him,  and  re¬ 
ceived!  of  the  smiles  and  favors  of  him  that  is  Judge 
of  all  there,  Zecli.  3:7;  Luke,  14  :  14,  15.  Moreover, 
it  is  expected  of  some,  that  his  Prince,  the  Lord  of  that 
country,  will  shortly  come  into  these  parts,  and  will 
know  the  reason,  if  they  can  give  any,  why  his  neigh¬ 
bors  set  so  little  by  him,  and  had  him  so  much  in  deri¬ 
sion,  when  they  perceived  that  he  would  be  a  pilgrim, 
Jude  14,  15. 

For  they  say  that  now  he  is  so  in  the  affections  ol 


214 


CHRISTIANA  AND  HER  SONS. 


his  Prince,  that  his  Sovereign  is  so 
vvin^take”  Christ  much  concerned  with  the  indignities 
tiau’s  part.  that  were  cast  upon  Christian  when  he 
became  a  pilgrim,  that  he  will  look  upon  all  as  if  don 
unto  himself,  Luke,  10  :  16 ;  and  no  marvel,  for  it  was 
for  the  love  that  he  had  to  his  Prince  that  he  ventured 
as  he  did. 

I  dare  say,  quoth  I,  I  am  glad  on’t;  I  am  glad  for  the 
poor  man’s  sake,  for  that  he  now  has  rest  from  his  la¬ 
bor,  and  for  that  he  reapetli  the  benefit  of  his  tears  with 
joy;  and  for  that  he  has  got  beyond  the  gun-shot  of 
his  enemies,  and  is  out  of  the  reach  of  them  that  hate 
him,  Rev.  14  :  13 ;  Psalm  126  :  5,  6.  I  also  am  glad  for 
that  a  rumor  of  these  things  is  noised  abroad  in  this 
country;  who  can  tell  but  that  it  may  work  some  good 
effect  on  some  that  are  left  behind?  But,  pray,  sir, 
while  it  is  fresh  in  my  mind,  do  you  hear  any  thing  of 
his  wife  and  children  ?  Poor  hearts !  I  wonder  in  my 
mind  what  they  do. 

Sag.  Who?  Christiana  and  her  sons?  They  are 
like  to  do  as  well  as  Christian  did  him- 

cimsthn’^^wife  self;  for  though  they  all  played  the  fool 
and  children.  at  an(j  Would  by  no  means  be  per¬ 
suaded  by  either  the  tears  or  entreaties  of  Christian, 
yet  second  thoughts  have  wrought  wonderfully  with 
them :  so  they  have  packed  up,  and  are  also  gone 
after  him. 

Better  and  better,  quoth  I :  but,  what !  wife  and  chil¬ 
dren,  and  all  ? 

Sag.  It  is  true :  I  can  give  you  an  account  of  the 
matter,  for  I  was  upon  the  spot  at  the  instant,  and  was 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  whole  affair. 

Then,  said  I.  a  man.  it  seems,  may  report  it  for  a 
truth. 


Christiana’s  cogitations  and  moanings.  216 

Sag.  You  need  not  fear  to  affirm  it :  I  mean  that 
they  are  all  gone  on  pilgrimage,  both  the  good  woman 
and  her  four  boys.  And  seeing  we  are,  as  I  perceive, 
going  some  considerable  way  together,  I  will  give  you 
an  account  of  the  whole  matter. 

This  Christiana,  (for  that  was  her  name  from  the 
day  that  she  with  her  children  betook  herself  to  a  pil¬ 
grim’s  life,)  after  her  husband  was  gone  over  the  river, 
and  she  could  hear  of  him  no  more,  began  to  have 
thoughts  working  in  her  mind.  First,  for  that  she  had 
lost  her  husband,  and  for  that  the  loving  bond  of  that 
relation  was  utterly  broken  betwixt  them.  For  you 
know,  said  he  to  me,  nature  can  do  no  less  but  enter¬ 
tain  the  living  with  many  a  heavy  cogitation,  in  the 
remembrance  of  the  loss  of  loving  relations.  This, 

therefore,  of  her  husband  did  cost  her  ,r  .  ... 

.  Mark  this,  you  that 

many  a  tear.  But  this  was  not  all ;  for  are  churls  to  your 

Christiana  did  also  begin  to  consider  godly  re,atloas- 
with  herself,  whether  her  unbecoming  behavior  toward 
her  husband  was  not  one  cause  that  she  saw  him  no 
more,  and  that  in  such  sort  he  was  taken  away  from 
her.  And  upon  this  came  into  her  mind,  by  swarms, 
all  her  unkind,  unnatural,  and  ungodly  carriage  to  her 
dear  friend;  which  also  clogged  her  conscience,  and 
did  load  her  with  guilt.  She  was,  moreover,  much 
broken  with  recalling  to  remembrance  the  restless 
groans,  brinish  tears,  and  self-bemoanings  of  her  hus¬ 
band,  and  how  she  did  harden  her  heart  against  all  his 
entreaties  and  loving  persuasions  of  her  and  her  sons 
to  go  with  him;  yea,  there  was  not  any  thing  that 
Christian  either  said  to  her,  or  did  before  her  all  the 
while  that  his  burden,  did  hang  on  his  back,  but  it  re¬ 
turned  upon  her  like  a  flash  ol  lightning,  and  rent  the 
caul  of  her  heart  in  sunder ;  specially  that  bitter  outcry 


216  Christiana’s  discourse  and  dream. 

of  his,  “  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?”  did  ring  in  her 
ears  most  dolefully. 

Then  said  she  to  her  children,  Sons,  we  are  all  un¬ 
done.  I  have  sinned  away  your  father,  and  he  is  gone : 
he  would  have  had  us  with  him,  but  I  would  not  go 
myself:  I  also  have  hindered  you  of  life.  With  that 
the  boys  fell  all  into  tears,  and  cried  out  to  go  after 
their  father.  Oh  (said  Christiana)  that  it  had  been  but 
our  lot  to  go  with  him !  then  had  it  fared  well  with  us, 
beyond  what  it  is  like  to  do  now.  For,  though  I  for¬ 
merly  foolishly  imagined,  concerning  the  troubles  of 
your  father,  that  they  proceeded  of  a  foolish  fancy  that 
he  had,  or  for  that  he  was  over-run  with  melancholy 
humors ;  yet  now  it  will  not  out  of  my  mind,  but  that 
they  sprang  from  another  cause;  to  wit,  for  that  the 
light  of  life  was  given  him,  James  1  :  23 — 25;  John, 
8  :  12;  by  the  help  of  which,  as  I  perceive,  he  has  es¬ 
caped  the  snares  of  death,  Frov.  14  :  27.  Then  they  all 
wept  again,  and  cried  out,  Oh  !  wo  worth  the  day  ! 

The  next  night  Christiana  had  a  dream;  and,  behold, 
she  saw  as  if  a  broad  parchment  was 

Christiana’s  dream.  ,  ,  r  ,  .  i  •  v 

opened  before  her,  in  which  were  re¬ 
corded  the  sum  of  her  ways ;  and  the  crimes,  as  she 
thought,  looked  very  black  upon  her.  Then  she  cried 
out  aloud  in  her  sleep,  “  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  me,  a 
sinner !”  Luke,  18  :  13 ;  and  the  little  children  heard  her. 

After  this  she  thought  she  saw  two  very  ill-favored 
ones  standing  by  her  bed-side,  and  saying,  What  shall 
we  do  with  this  woman  ?  for  she  cries  out  for  mercy, 

Mark  this:  this  is  waking  and  sleeping;  if  she  be  suffered 
the  quintessence  of  to  go  on  as  she  begins,  we  shall  lose  her 
as  we  have  lost  her  husband.  Where 
fore  we  must,  by  one  way  or  other,  seek  to  take  hei 
off  from  the  thoughts  of  what  shall  be  hereafter,  else 


THOUGHTS  OF  HER  HUSBAND’S  HAPPINESS.  217 

s.11  the  world  cannot  help,  but  she  will  become  a  pilgrim. 

Now  she  awoke  in  a  great  sweat;  also  a  trembling 
was  upon  her  ;  but  after  a  while  she  fell  to  sleeping 
again.  And  then  she  thought  she  saw  Christian  her 
husband  in  a  place  of  bliss  among  many  HeiP  against  dis- 
immortals,  with  a  harp  in  his  hand,  couragement. 
standing  and  playing  upon  it  before  One  that  sat  upon 
a  throne  with  a  rainbow  about  his  head.  She  saw  also, 
•as  if  he  bowed  his  head  with  his  face  to  the  paved 
work  that  was  under  his  Prince’s  feet,  saying,  “  I 
heartily  thank  my  Lord  and  King  for  bringing  me  into 
this  place.”  Then  shouted  a  company  of  them  that 
stood  round  about,  and  harped  with  their  harps ;  bi  t 
no  man  living  could  tell  what  they  said  but  Christian 
and  his  companions. 

Next  morning,  when  she  was  up,  had  prayed  to  God, 
and  talked  with  her  children  a  while,  one  knocked 
hard  at  the  door ;  to  whom  she  spake  out  saying,  “  If 
thou  contest  in  God’s  name,  come  in.”  So  he  said, 
“  Amen;”  and  opened  the  door,  and  saluted  her  with, 
u  Peace  be  to  this  house.”  The  which  when  he  had 
done,  he  said,  “  Christiana,  knowest  thou  wherefore  I 
am  come  ?”  Then  she  blushed  and  trembled;  also  her 
heart  began  to  wax  warm  with  desires  to  know  from 
whence  he  came,  and  what  was  his  errand  to  her.  So 
he  said  unto  her,  “  My  name  is  Secret;  I  dwell  with 
those  that  are  on  high.  It  is  talked  of  where  I  dwell 
as  if  thou  hadst  a  desire  to  go  thither:  also  there  is  a 
report  that  thou  art  aware  of  the  evil 
thou  hast  formerly  done  to  thy  hus-  condS^^din^ 
band,  in  hardening  of  thy  heart  against  ofGo(1t’8  readiness 

,  •  ®  to  pardon. 

his  way,  and  in  keeping  of  these  babes 

in  their  ignorance.  Christiana,  the  Merciful  One  hath 

sent  me  to  tell  thee,  that  he  is  a  God  ready  to  forgive, 

19 


218  THE  VISIT  OF  SECRET  TO  CHRISTIANA. 

and  that  he  taketh  delight  to  multiply  the  pardon  of 
offences.  He  also  would  have  thee  to  know,  that  he 
inviteth  thee  to  come  into  his  presence,  to  his  table, 
and  that  he  will  feed  thee  with  the  fat  of  his  house, 
and  with  the  heritage  of  Jacob  thy^  father. 

“  There  is  Christian,  thy  husband  that  was,  with  le¬ 
gions  more,  his  companions,  ever  beholding  that  face 
that  doth  minister  life  to  beholders ;  and  they  will  all 
be  glad  when  they  shall  hear  the  sound  of  thy  feet  step 
over  thy  Father’s  threshold.” 

Christiana  at  this  was  greatly  abashed  in  herself,  and 
bowed  her  head  to  the  ground.  This  visiter  proceeded 
and  said,  “  Christiana,  here  is  also  a  letter  for  thee, 
which  I  have  brought  from  thy  husband’s  King so 
she  took  it,  and  opened  it,  but  it  smelt  after  the  man¬ 
ner  of  the  best  perfume,  Cant.  1  :  3.  Also  it  was  writ¬ 
ten  in  letters  of  gold.  The  contents  of  the  letter  were 
these,  That  the  King  would  have  her  to  do  as  did 
Christian  her  husband ;  for  that  was  the  wray  to  come 
to  his  City  and  to  dwell  in  his  presence  with  joy  for 

Christiana  quite  ever.  At  this  the  good  woman  was  quite 
overcome.  overcome ;  so  she  cried  out  to  her  visit¬ 

er,  Sir,  will  you  carry  me  and  my  children  with  you, 
that  we  also  may  go  and  worship  the  King  ? 

Then  said  the  visiter,  Christiana,  the  bitter  is  before 

Further  instruc-  the  sweet.  Thou  must  through  troubles, 
tions  to  Christiana.  as  ^  }ie  that  Went  before  thee,  enter 

this  Celestial  City.  Wherefore  I  advise  thee  to  do  as 
did  Christian  thy  husband  :  go  to  the  wicket-gate  yon 
der,  over  the  plain,  for  that  stands  at  the  head  of  the 
way  up  which  thou  must  go ;  and  I  wish  thee  all  good 
speed.  Also  I  advise,  that  thou  put  this  letter  in  thy 
bosom,  that  thou  read  therein  to  thyself,  and  to  thy 
children,  until  you  have  got  it  by  heart ;  for  it  is  one 


CHRISTIANA  INVITES  HER  SONS  TO  GO  WITH  HER.  219 

of  the  songs  that  thou  must  sing  while  thou  art  in  this 
house  of  thy  pilgrimage,  Psa.  119  :  54;  also  this  thou 
must  deliver  in  at  the  further  gate.” 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  this  old  gentleman,  as 
he  told  me  the  story,  did  himself  seem  to  be  greatly 
affected  therewith.  He  moreover  proceeded,  and  said  ; 
So  Christiana  called  her  sons  together,  and  began  thus 
to  address  herself  unto  them  :  “  My  sons 
I  have,  as  you  may  perceive,  been  of  late  her^Tnfto  Pt2e 
under  much  exercise  in  my  soul  about  their 
the  death  of  your  father :  not  for  that  I  doubt  at  all  of 
his  happiness;  for  I  am  satisfied  now  that  he  is  well. 
I  have  also  been  much  affected  with  the  thoughts  of 
mine  own  state  and  yours,  which  I  verily  believe  is  by 
nature  miserable.  My  carriage  also  to  your  father  in 
his  distress  is  a  great  load  to  my  conscience;  fori 
hardened  both  mine  own  heart  and  yours  against  him, 
and  refused  to  go  with  him  on  pilgrimage. 

The  thoughts  of  these  things  would  now  kill  me 
outright,  but  that  for  a  dream  which  I  had  last  night, 
and  but  that  for  the  encouragement  which  this  stranger 
has  given  me  this  morning.  Come,  my  children,  let  us 
pack  up,  and  be  gone  to  the  gate  that  leads  to  the  celes¬ 
tial  country,  that  we  may  see  your  father,  and  be  with 
him  and  his  companions  in  peace,  according  to  iho 
laws  of  that  land.  8 

Then  did  her  children  burst  out  into  tears,  for  joy 
that  the  heart  of  their  mother  was  so  inclined.  So  their 
visiter  bid  them  farewell ;  and  they  began  to  prepare 
to  set  out  for  their  journey. 

But  while  they  were  thus  about  to  be  gone,  two  of 
the  women  that  were  Christiana’s  neigh-  °  .  5 
bors,  came  up  to  her  house,  and  knocked  MeJyXne  to”"/! 
at  her  door.  To  whom  she  said  as  be- 8it  Christiana- 


220  TIMOROUS  AND  MERCY  VISIT  CHRISTIANA. 


fore,  If  you  come  in  God’s  name,  come  in.  At  this 
the  women  were  stunned ;  for  this  kind 
language  stuns  her  of  language  they  used  not  to  hear,  or  to 
©id  neighbors.  perceive  to  drop  from  the  lips  of  Chris¬ 
tiana.  Yet  they  came  in:  but  behold,  they  found  the 
good  woman  preparing  to  be  gone  from  her  house. 

So  they  began,  and  said,  Neighbor,  pray  what  is 
vour  meaning  by  this  ? 

Christiana  answered,  and  said  to  the  eldest  of  them, 
whose  name  was  Mrs.  Timorous,  I  am  preparing  for  a 
journey. 

This  Timorous  was  daughter  to  him  that  met  Chris¬ 
tian  upon  the  Hill  of  Difficulty,  and  would  have  had 
him  go  back  for  fear  of  the  lions. 

Tim.  For  what  journey,  I  pray  you  ? 

Chr.  Even  to  go  after  my  good  husband.  And  with 
that  she  fell  a  weeping. 

Tim.  I  hope  not  so,  good  neighbor ;  pray,  for  your 
poor  children’s  sake,  do  not  so  unwomanly  cast  away 
yourself. 

Chr.  Nay,  my  children  shall  go  with  me ;  not  one 
of  them  is  willing  to  stay  behind. 

Tim.  I  wonder  in  my  very  heart  what  or  who  has 
brought  you  into  this  mind ! 

Chr.  O,  neighbor !  knew  you  but  as  much  as  I  do,  I 
doubt  not  but  that  you  would  go  along  with  me. 

Tim.  Pr’ythee,  what  new  knowledge  hast  thou  got 
that  so  worketh  off  thy  mind  from  thy  friends,  and 
that  temptetli  thee  to  go  nobody  knows  where  ? 

Chr.  Then  Christiana  replied,  I  have  been  sorely 
afflicted  since  my  husband’s  departure  from  me ;  but 
specially  since  he  went  over  the  river. 

L  But  that  which  troubleth  me  most  is, 
my  churlish  carriage  to  him  when  he  was  under  his 


DISCOURSE  OF  CHRISTIANA  AND  TIMOROUS.  221 

distress.  Besides,  I  am  now  as  he  was  then ;  nothing 
will  serve  me  but  going  on  pilgrimage.  I  was  a  dream¬ 
ing  last  night  that  I  saw  him.  O,  that  my  soul  was 
with  him !  He  dwelleth  in  the  presence  of  the  King 
of  the  country;  he  sits  and  eats  with  him  at  his  table; 
he  is  become  a  companion  of  immortals,  and  has  a 
house  now  given  him  to  dwell  in,  to  which  the  best 
palace  on  earth,  if  compared,  seems  to  me  but  as  a 
dunghill,  2  Cor.  5  :  1 — 4.  The  Prince  of  the  palace 
has  aiso  sent  for  me,  with  promises  of  entertainment 
if  I  shall  come  to  him;  his  messenger  was  here  even 
now,  and  has  brought  me  a  letter,  which  invites  me  to 
come.  And  with  that  she  plucked  out  her  letter,  and 
read  it,  and  said  to  them,  What  now  will  you  say 
to  this? 

Tim.  Oh,  the  madness  that  has  possessed  thee  and 
thy  husband,  to  run  yourselves  upon  such  difficulties  ! 
You  have  heard,  I  am  sure,  what  your  husband  did 
meet  with,  even  in  a  manner  at  the  first  step  that  he 
took  on  his  way,  as  our  neighbor  Obstinate  can  yet 
testify,  for  he  went  along  with  him ;  yea,  and  Pliable 
too,  until  they,  like  wise  men,  were  afraid  to  go  any 
further.  We  also  heard,  over  and  above,  how  he  met 
with  the  lions,  Apollyon,  the  Shadow  of  The  reasonings 
Death,  and  many  other  things.  Nor  is  of  the  flcslu 
the  danger  he  met  with  at  Vanity  Fair  to  be  forgotten 
by  thee.  For  if  he,  though  a  man,  was  so  hard  put  to 
it,  what  canst  thou,  being  but  a  poor  woman,  do?  Con¬ 
sider  also,  that  these  four  sweet  babes  are  thy  chil¬ 
dren,  thy  flesh  and  thy  bones.  Wherefore,  though  thou 
shouldest  be  so  rash  as  to  cast  away  thyself,  yet,  for 
the  sake  of  the  fruit  of  thy  body,  keep  thou  at  home. 

But  Christiana  said  unto  her,  Tempt  me  not,  my 
neighbor :  I  have  now  a  price  put  into  my  hands  to  get 

19* 


222 


MERCY  CLEAVES  TO  CHRISTIANA. 


gain,  and  I  should  be  a  fool  of  the  greatest  size  if  I 
should  have  no  heart  to  strike  in  with  the  opportunity. 
And  for  that  you  tell  me  of  all  these  troubles  which  I 
,  am  like  to  meet  with  in  the  way,  thev 

A  pertinent  reply  „  „  .  . 

to  fleshly  reason-  are  so  far  from  being  to  me  a  discou- 
ing‘  ragement,  that  they  show  I  am  in  the 

right.  The  bitter  must  come  before  the  sweet,  and  that 
also  will  make  the  sweet  the  sweeter.  Wherefore,  since 
you  came  not  to  my  house  in  God’s  name,  as  I  said,  I 
pray  you  to  be  gone,  and  not  to  disquiet  me  further. 

Then  Timorous  reviled  her,  and  said  to  her  fellow. 
Come,  neighbor  Mercy,  let  us  leave  her  in  her  own 
hands,  since  she  scorns  our  counsel  and  company.  But 
Mercy  was  at  a  stand ;  and  could  not  so  readily  com- 

Mercy’s  bowels  with  her  neighbor;  and  that  fora 
yearn  over  Chris-  twofold  reason.  1.  Her  bowels  yearned 

over  Christiana.  So  she  said  within  her¬ 
self,  If  my  neighbor  will  needs  be  gone,  I  will  go  a 
little  way  with  her,  and  help  her.  2.  Her  bowels 
yearned  over  her  owrn  soul;  for  what  Christiana  had 
said  had  taken  some  hold  upon  her  mind.  Wherefore 
she  said  within  herself  again,  I  will  yet  have  more  talk, 
with  this  Christiana;  and,  if  I  find  truth  and  life  in 
what  she  shall  say,  I  myself  with  my  heart  shall  also 
go  with  her.  Wherefore  Mercy  began  thus  to  reply  to 
her  neighbor  Timorous: 

Mer.  Neighbor,  I  did  indeed  come  with  you  to  see 
Christiana  this  morning ;  and,  since  she  is,  as  you  see, 
taking  her  last  farewell  of  her  country,  I  think  to  walk 
this  sun-shiny  morning  a  little  with  her,  to  help  her  on 
her  way.  But  she  told  her  not  of  her  second  reason, 
but  kept  it  to  herself. 

Tim.  Well,  I  see  you  have  a  mind  to  go  a  fooling 
too;  but  take  heed  in  time,  and  be  wise:  while  we  are 


MRS.  TIMOROUS  AND  MRS.  KNOW-NOTHING.  223 

out  of  danger,  we  are  out  ;  but  when  we  are  in,  we 
are  in. 

So  Mrs.  Timorous  returned  to  her  house,  and  Chris¬ 
tiana  betook  herself  to  her  journey,  rp-  .  , 

r,  ,  v  m-  J  J  Timorous  forsakes 

liut  when  Timorous  was  got  home  to  her,  but  Mercy 
her  house  she  sends  for  some  of  her  cleaves  10  her' 
neighbors,  to  wit,  Mrs.  Bat’s-Eyes,  Mrs.  Inconsiderate, 
Mrs.  Light-Mind,  and  Mrs.  Know-Nothing.  So  when 
they  were  come  to  her  house,  she  falls  Timorous 
to  telling  of  the  story  of  Christiana,  and  qualms  her  friends 

Of  her  intended  journey.  And  thus  she  cSrLi.'„ha  i„Kl 
began  her  tale  :  to  do- 

Tim.  Neighbors,  having  had  little  to  do  this  morn¬ 
ing,  I  went  to  give  Christiana  a  visit ;  and  when  I 
came  at  the  door  I  knocked,  as  you  know  it  is  our 
custom:  and  she  answered,  If  you  come  in  God’s 
name,  come  in.  So  in  I  went,  thinking  all  was  well : 
but,  when  I  came  in  I  found  her  preparing  herself  to 
depart  the  town,  she,  and  also  her  children.  So  I  asked 
her  what  was  her  meaning  by  that.  And  she  told  me, 
in  short,  that  she  was  now  of  a  mind  to  go  on  pil¬ 
grimage,  as  did  her  husband.  She  told  me  also  of  a 
dream  that  she  had,  and  how  the  King  of  the  country 
where  her  husband  was  had  sent  her  an  inviting  let¬ 
ter  to  come  thither. 

Then  said  Mrs.  Know-Nothing,  And  Mrs.Kll0W  Nc- 
what !  do  you  think  she  will  go?  thing. 

Tim.  Ay,  go  she  will,  whatever  comes  on’t ;  and  me- 
thinks  I  know  it  by  this;  for  that  which  was  my  great 
argument  to  persuade  her  to  stay  at  home  (to  wit,  the 
troubles  she  was  like  to  meet  with  on  the  way,)  is 
one  great  argument  with  her  to  put  her  forward  on 
her  journey.  For  she  told  me  in  so  many  words,  The 
bitter  goes  before  the  sweet :  yea,  and  for  as  much  as 
it  doth,  it  makes  the  sweet  the  sweeter. 


224  MRS.' LIGHT-MIND,  BATS-EYES,  AND  INCONSIDERATE. 

Mrs.  Bat’s-Eyes.  Oh,  this  blind  and  foolish  wo- 
„  „  man !  said  she ;  and  will  she  not  take 

Mrs.  Bat’s-Eyes.  .  ,  ,  ,  ,  n _ 

warning  by  her  husband’s  afflictions? 
for  my  part,  I  see  if  he  were  here  again  he  would  rest 
himself  content  in  a  whole  skin,  and  never  run  so 
many  hazards  for  nothing. 

Mrs.  Inconsiderate  also  replied,  saying,  away  with 
T  such  fantastical  fools  from  the  town !  a 

good  riddance,  for  my  part,  I  say,  of 
her !  should  she  stay  where  she  dwells,  and  retain  this 
her  mind,  who  could  live  quietly  by  her  ?  for  she  will 
either  be  dumpish,  or  unneighborly,  or  talk  of  such 
.matters  as  no  wise  body  can  abide.  Wherefore,  foi 
my  part,  I  shall  never  be  sorry  for  her  departure  ;  let 
her  go,  and  let  better  come  in  her  room :  it  was  nevei 
a  good  world  since  these  whimsical  fools  dwelt  in  it 
Then  Mrs.  Light-Mind  added  as  followeth :  Comt 
Mrs.  Light-Mind,  put  this  kind  of  talk  away.  I  was  yes 
Madam  Wanton,  terday  at  Madam  Wanton’s,  where  we 

to 6 have1  been  'too  were  as  menT  as  the  maids.  For  who 
hard  for  Faithful,  do  you  think  should  be  there  but  I  and 

in  time  past.  , 

Mrs.  Love-the-Flesh,  and  three  or  foui 
more,  with  Mrs.  Lechery,  Mrs.  Filth,  and  some  others  : 
so  there  we  had  music  and  dancing,  and  what  else  wan 
meet  to  fill  up  the  pleasure.  And  I  dare  say,  my  lad)' 
herself  is  an  admirable  well-bred  gentlewoman,  and 
Mr.  Lechery  is  as  pretty  a  fellow. 

By  this  time  Christiana  was  got  on  her  way,  and 
Mercy  Avent  along  Avith  her:  so  as  they  went,  her 

Discourse  betwixt  children  beinS  there  also,  Christiana 
Mercy  and  good  began  to  discourse.  And,  Mercy,  said 

Christiana.  .  ..  T  J  J  1 

Christiana,  I  take  this  as  an  unexpected 
favor,  that  you  shouldest  set  forth  out  of  doors  Avith 
me  to  accompany  me  a  little  in  my  Avay. 


MERCY  GOES  WITH  CHRISTIANA. 


225 

Mer.  Then  said  young  Mercy,  (for  she  was  but 
young,)  If  I  thought  it  would  be  to  pur-  Mercy  inclinM 
pose  to  go  with  you,  I  would  never  go  t0  li¬ 
near  the  town  any  more. 

Chr.  Well,  Mercy,  said  Christiana,  cast  in  thy  lot 
with  me :  I  well  know  what  will  be  the  end  of  our 
pilgrimage:  my  husband  is  where  he  would  not  but 
be  lor  all  the  gold  in  the  Spanish  mines.  Nor  shalt 
thou  be  rejected,  though  thou  goest  but  upon  my  in¬ 
vitation.  The  King,  who  hath  sent  for  me  and  my 
children,  is  one  that  delighteth  in  Mercy.  Besides,  if 
thou  wilt,  I  will  hire  thee,  and  thou  shalt  go  along  with 
me  as  my  servant.  Yet  we  will  have  all  things  in 
common  betwixt  thee  and*  me :  only  go  along  with  me. 

Mer.  But  how  shall  I  be  ascertained  that  I  also 
should  be  entertained  ?  Had  I  this  hope  M  „ 

but  lrom  one  that  can  tell,  I  would  make  acc&ptance. 
no  stick  at  all,  but  would  go,  being  helped  by  Him 
that  can  help,  though  the  way  was  never  so  tedious. 

Chr.  Well,  loving  Mercy,  I  will  tell  thee  what  thou 
shalt  do:  go  with  me  to  the  Wicket- 
Gate,  and  there  I  will  further  inquire  for  herh1f 
thee  ;  and  if  there  thou  shalt  not  meet  whjch  is  Chi:ist’ 
with  encouragement,  I  will  be  content  there  to  inquire 
that  thou  return  to  thy  place ;  I  will  for  her* 
also  pay  thee  for  thy  kindness  which  thou  showest  to 
me  and  my  children  in  the  accompanying  of  us  in  our 
way  as  thou  dost. 

Mer.  Then  will  I  g0  thither,  and  will  take  what 
shall  follow ;  and  the  Lord  grant  that 
my  lot  may  there  fall,  even  as  the  King  Morcy  pray8, 
of  Heaven  shall  have  his  heart  upon  me. 

Christiana  then  was  glad  at  her  heart:  not  only 
that  she  had  a  companion ;  but  also  for  rI  . .. 
that  she  had  prevailed  with  this  poor  Md-cy’s^ompany. 


226 


MERCY  ENCOURAGED. 


maid  to  fall  in  love  with  her  own  salvation.  So  they 
went  on  together,  and  Mercy  began  to  weep.  Then 
said  Christiana,  Wherefore  weepeth  my  sister  so  ? 

Mer.  Alas !  said  she,  who  can  but  lament,  that  shall 

Mercy  grieves  but  rightly  consider  what  a  state  and 
for  her  carnal  re-  condition  my  poor  relations  are  in  that 
yet  remain  in  our  sinful  town?  And 
that  which  makes  my  grief  the  more  heavy  is,  because 
they  have  no  instructor,  nor  any  to  tell  them  what  is 
to  come. 

Chr.  Bowels  become  pilgrims;  and  thou  dost  weep 
for  thy  friends,  as  my  good  Christian  did  for  me  when 
he  left  me :  he  mourned  for  that  I  would  not  heed  nor 
regard  him ;  but  his  Lord  and  ours  did 

wflreausvwed for  gather  up  his  tears,  and  put  them  into 

his  relations  after  hjs  bottle ;  and  now  both  I  and  thou, 
he  was  dead.  '  .  7 

and  these  my  sweet  babes,  are  reaping 
the  fruit  and  benefit  of  them.  I  hope,  Mercy,  that 
these  tears  of  thine  will  not  be  lost ;  for  the  truth  hath 
said,  that  “  they  that  sow  in  tears  shall  reap  in  joy.” 
And  “  he  that  goeth  forth  and  weepeth,  bearing  pre¬ 
cious  seed,  shall  doubtless  come  again  with  rejoicing, 
bringing  his  sheaves  with  him,”  Psalm  126  :  5,  6. 

Then  said  Mercy, 


Let  the  Most  Blessed  be  my  guide, 
If  it  be  his  blessed  will, 

Unto  his  gate,  into  his  fold, 

Up  to  his  holy  hill. 

And  let  Him  never  suffer  me 
To  swerve,  or  turn  aside 
From  his  free  grace  and  holy  w  ays, 
Whate’er  shall  me  betide. 


And  let  Him  gather  them  of  mine 
That  I  have  left  behind ; 
fiord,  make  them  pray  they  may  be  thine, 
With  all  their  heart  and  mind. 


THE  SLOUGH  OF  DESPOND. 


227 


Now  my  old  friend  proceeded  and  said,  But,  when 
Christiana  came  to  the  Slough  of  Despond,  she  began 
to  be  at  a  stand;  For,  said  she,  this  is  the  place  in 
which  my  dear  husband  had  like  to  have  been  smother¬ 
ed  with  mud.  She  perceived,  also,  that  notwithstand¬ 
ing  the  command  of  the  King  to  make  this  place  for 
pilgrims  good,  yet  it  was  rather  worse  than  formerly. 
So  I  asked  if  that  was  true.  Yes,  said  the  old  gentle¬ 
man,  too  true ;  for  many  there  be  that  pretend  to  be 
the  King’s  laborers,  and  say  they  are  for  mending  the 
King’s  highways,  who  bring  dirt  and  Their  ow|1  carUill 
dung  instead  of  stones,  and  so  mar  in-  conclusions  instead 
stead  of  mending.  Here  Christiana  there-  °flhe  wordothfc- 
fore,  with  her  boys,  did  make  a  stand.  But  said  Mercy, 
Come,  let  us  venture,  only  let  us  be  Mcrcv  boldest 
wary.  Then  they  looked  well  to  their  at  the  Slough  of 
steps,  and  made  a  shift  to  get  stagger-  Despond‘ 
ing  over. 

Yet  Christiana  had  like  to  have  been  in,  and  that 
not  once  or  twice.  Now  they  had  no  sooner  got  over, 
but  they  thought  they  heard  words  that  said  unto 
them,  “  Blessed  is  she  that  believeth,  for  there  shall  be 
a  performance  of  those  things  which  were  told  her 
from  the  Lord,”  Luke,  1  :  45. 

Then  they  went  on  again;  and  said  Mercy  to  Chris¬ 
tiana,  Had  I  as  good  ground  to  hope  for  a  loving  re¬ 
ception  at  the  Wicket-Gate  as  you,  I  think  no  Slough 
of  Despond  would  discourage  me. 

WTell,  said  the  other,  you  know  your  sore,  and  I 
know  mine ;  and,  good  friend,  we  shall  all  have  enough 
evil  before  we  come  to  our  journey’s  end.  For  can  it 
be  imagined  that  the  people  who  design  to  attain  such 
excellent  glories  as  we  do,  and  who  are  so  envied  that 
happiness  as  we  are,  but  that  we  shall  meet  with  what 


228 


THE  DOG  BARKING  AT  THEM. 


fears  and  snares,  with  what  troubles  and  afflictions 
they  can  possibly  assault  us  with  that  hate  us  ? 

And  now  Mr.  Sagacity  left  me  to  dream  out  my 
dream  by  myself.  Wherefore,  methought  I  saw  Chris- 

rrayer  should  be  tiana,  and  Mercy,  and  the  boys,  go  all 

de^tio^and^feai;  °f  thei11  llP  t0  tlie  Sate  :  t0  Vvhidl  When 
ns  well  as  m  faith  they  were  come,  they  betook  themselves 
«nd  hope.  t0  a  short  debate,  about  how  they  must 

manage  their  calling  at  the  gate,  and  what  should  be 
said  unto  him  that  did  open  to  them  :  so  it  was  con¬ 
cluded,  since  Christiana  was  the  eldest,  that  she  should 
knock  for  entrance,  and  that  she  should  speak  to  him 
that  did  open,  for  the  rest.  So  Christiana  began  to 
knock,  and  as  her  poor  husband  did,  she  knocked  and 
knocked  again.  But  instead  of  any  that  answered, 
they  all  thought  that  they  heard  as  if  a  dog  came  bark- 

The  dog,  the  de-  llP0n  them5  a  dog>  and  a  great  Olie 

vii,  au  enemy  to  too :  and  this  made  the  women  and  chil- 
piuyer'  dren  afraid.  Nor  durst  they  for  a  while 

to  knock  any  more,  for  fear  the  mastiff  should  fly 
upon  them.  Now  therefore  they  were  greatly  tumbled 
up  and  down  in  their  minds,  and  knew  not  what  to  do ; 

Christiana  and  knock  they  durst  not,  for  fear  of  the 

perrpiexed'ipaabout  d°g  5  go  back  they  durst  not,  for  fear 
prayer.  the  keeper  of  the  gate  should  espy  them 

as  they  so  went,  and  should  be  offended  with  them ; 
at  last  they  \hought  of  knocking  again,  and  knocked 
more  vehemently  than  they  did  at  first.  Then  said  the 
keeper  of  the  gate,  Who  is  there  ?  So  the  dog  left  off 
to  bark,  and  he  opened  unto  them. 

Then  Christiana  made  low  obeisance,  and  said,  Let 
not  our  Lord  be  offended  with  his  hand-maidens,  for 
that  we  have  knocked  at  his  princely  gate.  Then  said 
the  keeper,  Whence  come  ye  ?  And  what  is  it  that 
vou  would  have  ? 


CHRISTIANA  RECEIVED.  229 

Christiana  answered,  We  are  come  from  whence 
Christian  did  come,  and  upon  the  same  errand  as  he; 
to  wit,  to  be,  if  it  shall  please  you,  graciously  admit¬ 
ted  by  this  gate  into  the  way  that  leads  unto  the  Ce¬ 
lestial  City.  And  I  answer,  my  Lord,  in  the  next 
place,  that  I  am  Christiana,  once  the  wife  of  Christian, 
that  now  is  gotten  above. 

With  that  the  keeper  of  the  gate  did  marvel,  saying, 
What !  is  she  now  become  a  pilgrim,  that  but  a  while 
ago  abhoried  that  life?  Then  she  bowed  her  head, 
and  said,  Yea  ;  and  so  are  these  my  sweet  babes  also! 

Then  he  took  her  by  the  hand  and  led  her  in,  and 
said  also,  Suffer  the  little  children  .  . 

to  come  unto  me  ;  and  with  that  he  «  entertained  at 
shut  up  the  gate.  This  done,  he  called  th°  gate‘ 
to  a  trumpeter  that  was  above,  over  the  gate,  to  enter¬ 
tain  Christiana  with  shouting,  and  the  sound  of 
trumpet,  for  joy.  So  he  obeyed,  and  sounded,  and 
filled  the  air  with  his  melodious  notes. 

Now  all  this  while  poor  Mercy  did  stand  without, 
trembling  and  crying,  for  fear  that  she  was  rejected. 
But  when  Christiana  had  got  admittance  for  herself 
and  her  boys,  then  she  began  to  make  intercession  for 
Mercy. 

Chr.  And  she  said,  My  Lord,  I  have  a  companion  of 
mine  that  stands  yet  without,  that  is  ™  .  . 
come  hither  upon  the  same  account  as  er  for  her  friend 
myself:  one  that  is  much  dejected  in  Mercy* 
her  mind,  for  that  she  comes,  as  she  thinks,  without 
sending  for :  whereas  I  was  sent  for  by  my  husband’s 
King  to  come. 

Now  Mercy  began  to  be  very  impatient,  and  each 
minute  was  as  long  to  her  as  an  hour  ; 
wherefore  she  prevented  Christiana  Z 

from  a  fuller  interceding  for  her  by  morefervent- 

20  ’ 


230 


MERCY  ADMITTED  AND  WELCOMED. 


knocking  at  the  gate  herself.  And  she  knocked  then 
so  loud  that  she  made  Christiana  to  start.  Then 
said  the  keeper  of  the  gate,  Who  is  there?  And 

Christiana  said,  It  is  my  friend. 

So  he  opened  the  gate,  and  looked 
out,  but  Mercy  was  fallen  down  with- 


Mercy  Faints. 


out  in  a  swoon,  for  she  fainted,  and  was  afraid  that  no 
gate  should  be  opened  to  her. 

Then  he  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  said,  Damsel,  I 
bid  thee  arise. 

O  Sir,  said  she,  I  am  faint :  there  is  scarce  life  left 
in  me.  But  he  answered,  that  one  once  said,  ‘  When 
my  soul  fainted  within  me  I  remembered  the  Lord : 
and  my  prayer  came  unto  thee,  into  thy  holy  temple,” 
Jonah,  2:7.  Fear  not,  but  stand  upon  thy  feet,  and 
tell  me  wherefore  thou  art  come. 

Mer.  I  am  come  for  that  unto  which  I  was  never 
invited,  as  my  friend  Christiana  was.  Hers  was  from 
the  King,  and  mine  was  but  from  her.  Wherefore  I 
fear  I  presume. 

Keep.  Did  she  desire  thee  to  come  with  her  to  this 
place  ? 

Mer.  Yes  ;  and  as  my  Lord  sees,  I  am  come.  And 
if  there  is  any  grace  and  forgiveness  of  sins  to  spare,  I 
beseech  that  thy  poor  handmaid  may  be  a  partaker 
thereof. 

Then  he  took  her  again  by  the  hand,  and  led  her 
gently  in,  and  said,  I  pray  for  all  them  that  believe  on 
me,  by  what  means  soever  they  come  unto  me.  Then 
said  he  to  those  that  stood  by,  Fetch  something  and 
give  it  Mercy  to  smell  on,  thereby  to  stay  her  faint- 
ings :  so  they  fetched  her  a  bundle  of  myrrh,  and  a 
while  after  she  was  revived. 

And  now  were  Christiana  and  her  boys,  and  Mercy, 


TALK  BETWEEN  THE  CHRISTIANS.  231 

received  of  the  Lord  at  the  head  of  the  way,  and 
spoken  kindly  unto  by  him.  Then  said  they  yet  fur¬ 
ther  unto  him,  We  are  sorry  for  our  sins,  and  beg  of 
our  Lord  his  pardon,  and  further  information  what 
we  must  do. 

I  grant  pardon,  said  he,  by  word  and  deed ;  by 
word  in  the  promise  of  forgiveness,  by  deed  in  the  way 
I  obtained  it.  Take  the  first  from  my  lips  with  a  kiss, 
and  the  other  as  it  shall  be  revealed,  Song,  1:2;  John, 
20 :  20. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  he  spake  many  good 
words  unto  them,  whereby  they  were  greatly  glad¬ 
dened.  He  also  had  them  up  to  the  top  of  the  gate, 
and  showed  them  by  what  deed  they  Christ  crucified 
were  saved;  and  told  them  withal,  that seeuafaroff* 
that  sight  they  would  have  again  as  they  went  along 
the  way,  to  their  comfort. 

So  he  left  them  a  while  in  a  summer  parlor  below, 
where  they  entered  into  a  talk  by  themselves ;  and 
thus  Christiana  began.  How  glad  am  Taik  between 
I  that  we  are  got  in  hither !  the  Christians. 

Mer.  So  you  well  may ;  but  I,  of  all,  have  cause  to 
leap  for  joy. 

Chr.  I  thought  one  time,  as  I  stood  at  the  gate, 
because  1  had  knocked  and  none  did  answer,  that  all 
our  labor  had  been  lost,  especially  when  that  ugly 
cur  made  such  a  heavy  barking  against  us. 

Mer.  But  my  worst  fear  was  after  I  saw  that 
you  were  taken  into  his  favor,  and  that  I  was  left 
behind.  Now,  thought  I,  it  is  fulfilled  which  is 
written,  “  Two  women  shall  be  grinding  at  the  mill ; 
the  one  shall  be  taken,  and  the  other  left.”  Matt.  24 : 
41.  I  had  much  ado  to  forbear  crying  out,  Undone! 
And  afraid  I  was  to  knock  any  more;  but  when  I 
looked  up  to  what  was  written  over  the  gate,  I  took 


232 


TALK  BETWEEN  THE  CHRISTIANS. 


courage.  I  also  thought  that  I  must  either  knock 

again,  or  die  ;  so  I  knocked,  but  I  cannot  tell  how ; 

for  my  spirit  now  struggled  between  life  and  death. 

Christiana  thinks  CHR.  Can  you  llOt  tell  how  yOU 
her  companion  ,  .  .  n  T  .  , 

prays  better  than  knocked  /  I  am  sure  your  knocks 
8he-  were  so  earnest  that  the  very  sound  of 

them  made  me  start ;  I  thought  I  never  heard  such 
knocking  in  all  my  life ;  I  thought  you  would  come 
in  by  a  violent  hand,  or  take  the  kingdom  by  storm, 
Matt.  11 :  12. 

Mer.  Alas !  to  be  in  my  case,  who  that  so  was 
could  but  have  done  so?  You  saw  that  the  door  was 
shut  upon  me,  and  that  there  was  a  most  cruel  dog 
thereabout.  Who,  I  say,  that  was  so  faint-hearted  as 
I,  would  not  have  knocked  with  all  their  might  ?  But 
pray,  what  said  my  Lord  to  my  rudeness  ?  Was  he 
not  angry  with  me? 

Chr.  When  he  heard  your  lumbering  noise,  he 

Christ  leased  &ave  a  wonderful  innocent  smile ;  I 

with  loud  and  rest-  believe  what  you  did  pleased  him  well, 

less  prayer.  for  he  sh0wed  n0  sign  t0  the  contrary. 

If  the  soul  at  first  °  J 

did  know  ail  it  But  1  marvel  in  my  heart  why  he  keeps 

fit?  journey 1 ‘£  such  a  d°g  '  had  I  known  that  before,  I 
heaven,  it  would  should  not  have  had  heart  enough  to 

hai  dly  ever  set  out.  ° 

have  ventured  myself  in  this  manner. 
But  now  we  are  in,  we  are  in,  and  I  am  glad  with  all 
my  heart. 

Mer.  I  will  ask,  if  you  please,  next  time  he  comes 
down,  why  he  keeps  such  a  filthy  cur  in  his  yard  ;  I 
hope  he  will  not  take  it  amiss. 

Do  so,  said  the  children,  and  persuade  him  to  hang 
The  children  are  him  ;  for  we  are  afraid  he  will  bite  us 

afraid  of  the  dog.  w}ien  we  gQ  hence. 

So  at  last  he  came  down  to  them  again,  and  Mercy 


EXPLANATION  ABOUT  THE  DOG. 


233 


lell  to  the  ground  on  her  face  before  him,  and  wor¬ 
shipped,  and  said,  “  Let  my  Lord  accept  the  sacrifice 
of  praise  which  I  now  offer  unto  him  with  the  calves 
of  my  lips.” 

So  he  said  unto  her,  Peace  be  to  thee ;  stand  up. 
But  she  continued  upon  her  face,  and  said,  “Right¬ 
eous  art  thou,  O  Lord,  when  I  plead  with  thee ;  yet 
let  me  talk  with  thee  of  thy  judgments,”  Jer.  12 :  1. 
Wherefore  dost  thou  keep  so  cruel  a  MercJ,  exp05t„. 
dog  in  thy  yard,  at  the  sight  of  which,  lates  about  the  dog. 
such  women  and  children  as  we,  are  ready  to  fly 
from  the  gate  for  fear  ? 

He  answered  and  said,  That  dog  has  another 
owner ;  he  also  is  kept  close  in  another 
man’s  ground,  only  my  pilgrims  hear  The  Devil‘ 
his  barking:  he  belongs  to  the  castle  which  you  see 
there  at  a  distance,  but  can  come  up  to  the  walls  of 
this  place.  He  has  frighted  many  an  honest  pilgrim 
from  worse  to  better,  by  the  great  voice  of  his  roaring. 
Indeed,  he  that  owneth  him  doth  not  keep  him  out  of 
any  good  will  to  me  or  mine,  but  with  intent  to  keep 
the  pilgrims  from  coming  to  me,  and  that  they  may 
be  afraid  to  come  and  knock  at  this  gate  for  entrance. 
Sometimes  also  he  has  broken  out,  and  has  worried 
some  that  I  loved  ;  but  I  take  all  at  present  patiently. 

I  also  give  my  pilgrims  timely  help,  so  that  they  are 
not  delivered  to  his  power,  to  do  with  them  what  his 
doggish  nature  would  prompt  him  to.  But  what,  my 
purchased  one,  I  trow,  hadst  thou  known  never  so 
much  beforehand,  thou  wouldst  not  have  been  afraid 
of  a  dog.  The  beggars  that  go  from  door  to  door, 
will,  rather  than  lose  a  supposed  alms,  .  .  ,  , 

run  the  hazard  of  the  bawling,  barking,  carnal  fear  of  the 
and  biting  too  of  a  dog;  and  shall  a  dog,  pilgri,n8‘ 

20* 


234 


THE  DEVIL’3  GARDEN. 


a  dog  in  another  man’s  yard,  a  dog  whose  barking  1 
turn  to  the  profit  of  pilgrims,  keep  any  one  from 
coming  to  me?  I  deliver  them  from  the  lions,  and  my 
darling  from  the  power  of  the  dog. 

Mer.  Then  said  Mercy,  I  confess  my 

wke r enough, Wlac-  ignorance ;  I  spake  what  I  understand 
quiesce  in  the  wis-  not .  j  acknowledge  that  thou  dost  all 

dom  of  their  Lord.  7  ° 


things  well. 

Chr.  Then  Christiana  began  to  talk  of  their  journey y 
and  to  inquire  after  the  way.  So  he  fed  them,  ami 
washed  their  feet,  and  set  them  in  the  way  ol  his 
steps,  according  as  he  had  dealt  with  her  husband 
before.  So  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  walked  on 
their  way,  and  had  the  weather  very  comfortable 
to  them. 

Then  Christiana  began  to  sing,  saying, 


Bless’d  be  the  day  that  I  began 
A  pilgrim  for  to  be  ; 

And  blessed  also  be  the  man 
That  thereto  moved  me. 

’Tis  true,  ’twas  long  ere  I  began 
To  seek  to  live  for  ever  ; 

But  now  I  run  fast  as  I  can  : 

’Tis  better  late  than  never. 


Our  tears  to  joy,  our  fears  to  faith, 
Are  turned,  as  we  see  ; 

Thus  our  beginning  (as  one  saith) 
Shows  what  our  end  will  be. 


Now  there  was,  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  that 
fenced  in  the  way  up  which  Christiana  and  her  com¬ 
panions  were  to  go,  a  garden,  and  that 

The  devil’s  garden.  1  ,  ’.  .  ,  ’  ,, 

garden  belonged  to  him  whose  was  that 
barking  dog,  of  whom  mention  was  made  before. 
And  some  of  the  fruit-trees  that  grew  in  that  garden 
si  ot  their  branches  over  the  wall ;  and  being  mellow 


TWO  ILL-FAVORED  ONES  ASSAULT  THEM.  235 

they  that  found  them  did  gather  them  up,  and  eat  of 
them  to  their  hurt.  So  Christiana’s  boys,  as  boys  are 
apt  to  do,  being  pleased  with  the  trees, 
and  with  the  fruit  that  hung  thereon,  of  the '"eJelliy-s 
did  pluck  them,  and  began  to  eat.  frult‘ 

Their  mother  did  also  chide  them  for  so  doing,  but  still 
the  boys  went  on. 

Well,  said  she,  my  sons,  you  transgress,  for  that 
fruit  is  none  of  ours;  but  she  did  not  know  that  it  be¬ 
longed  to  the  enemy  :  I’ll  warrant  you  if  she  had  she 
would  have  been  ready  to  die  for  fear.  But  that  pass¬ 
ed,  and  they  went  on  their  way.  Now  by  that  they 
were  gone  about  two  bow-shots  from  the  place  that 
led  them  into  the  way,  they  espied  two  very  ill-favored 
ones  coming  down  apace  to  meet  them.  With  that 
Christiana  and  Mercy  her  friend  covered  themselves 
with  their  veils,  and  so  kept  on  their  journey  i  the 
children  also  went  on  before  ;  so  at  last 
they  met  together.  Then  they  that  ones  assault  chris- 
came  down  to  meet  them,  came  just  up  tiana  a,ld  Mercy. 
to  the  women,  as  if  they  would  embrace  them;  but 
Christiana  said,  Stand  back,  or  go  peaceably  as  you 
should.  Yet  these  two,  as  men  that  are  deaf,  re¬ 
garded  not  Christiana’s  words,  but  began  to  lay  hands 
upon  them :  at  that  Christiana,  waxing  very  wroth, 
spurned  at  them  with  her  feet.  Mercy  also,  as  well 
as  she  could,  did  what  she  could  to  shift  them. 
Christiana  again  said  to  them,  Stand  back,  and  be  gone, 
for  we  have  no  money  to  lose,  being  pilgrims,  as  you 
see,  and  such  too  as  live  upon  the  charity  of  our 
friends. 

Ill-Fa v.  Then  said  one  of  the  two  men,  We  make 
no  assault  upon  you  for  money,  but  are  come  out  to 
tell  you,  that  if  you  will  but  grant  one  small  request 


236 


THEY  ARE  RESCUED. 


which  we  shall  ask,  we  will  make  women  of  you 
for  ever. 

Chr.  Now  Christiana,  imagining  what  they  should 
mean,  made  answer  again,  We  will  neither  hear,  nor 
regard,  nor  yield  to  what  you  shall  ask.  We  are  in 
haste,  and  cannot  stay ;  our  business  is  a  business  of 
life  and  death.  So  again  she  and  her  companion  made 
a  fresh  essay  to  go  past  them  ;  but  they  letted  them 


in  their  way. 

Ill-Fav.  And  they  said,  We  intend  no  hurt  to  your 
lives  j  it  is  another  thing  we  would  have. 

Chr.  Ay,  quoth  Christiana,  you  would  have  us 
body  and  soul,  for  I  know  it  is  for  that 
•  Shecriesout-  y0U  are  come;  but  we  will  die  rather 
upon  the  spot,  than  to  suffer  ourselves  to  be  brought 
into  such  snares  as  shall  hazard  our  well-being  here¬ 
after.  And  with  that  they  both  shrieked  out  and 
cried,  Murder  !  murder !  and  so  put  themselves  under 
those  laws  that  are  provided  for  the  protection  of  wo¬ 
men,  Deut.  22 :  25 — 27.  But  the  men  still  made  their 
approach  upon  them,  with  design  to  prevail  against 
them.  They  therefore  cried  out  again. 

Now,  they  being,  as  I  said,  not  far  from  the  gate  in 
,  .  at  which  they  came,  their  voice  was 

out  when  we  are  heard  from  whence  they  were,  thither : 
assaulted.  wherefore  some  of  the  house  came  out, 

and  knowing  that  it  was  Christiana’s  tongue,  they 
The  Reliever  made  haste  to  her  relief.  But  by  that 
comes-  they  were  got  within  sight  of  them  the 

women  were  in  a  very  great  scuffle;  the  children  also 
stood  crying  by.  Then  did  he  that  came  in  for  their  re¬ 
lief  call  out  to  the  ruffians,  saying,  What  is  that  thing 
you  do ;  would  you  make  my  Lord’s  people  to  trans¬ 
gress  1  He  also  attempted  to  take  them,  but  they  did 


237 


DISCOURSE  WITH  THE  RELIEVER. 

make  their  escape  over  the  wall  into  the  Thp  in  , 
garden  of  the  man  to  whom  the  great the  devil  for  relict: 
dog  belonged  $  so  the  dog  became  their  protector.  This 
reliever  then  came  up  to  the  women,  and  asked  them 
how  they  did.  So  they  answered,  We  thank  thv 
Prince,  pretty  well,  only  we  have  been  somewhat 
affrighted  :  we  thank  thee  also  for  that  thou  earnest,  in 
to  our  help,  otherwise  we  had  been  overcome. 

Reliever.  So  after  a  few  more  words  this  reliever 
said  as  folio weth :  I  marvelled  much  Thc  Reliever 
when  you  was  entertained  at  the  gate  talks  to  the  women* 
above,  seeing  ye  knew  that  ye  were  but  weak  women 
that  you  petitioned  not  the  Lord  for  a  conductor  • 
then  might  you  have  avoided  these  troubles  and  dan¬ 
gers;  for  he  would  have  granted  you  one. 

Chr.  Alas !  said  Christiana,  we  were  so  taken  with 
our  present  blessing,  that  dangers  to 
come  were  forgotten  by  us.  Beside,  Mark  this! 
who  could  have  thought,  that  so  near  the  King’s 
palace  there  could  have  lurked  such  naughty  ones  ? 
Indeed,  it  had  been  well  for  us  had  we  asked  our  Lord 
for  one;  but  since  our  Lord  knew  it  would  be  for  our 
profit,  I  wonder  he  sent  not  one  along  with  us. 

Rel.  It  is  not  always  necessary  to  grant  things  not 
asked  for,  lest  by  so  doing  they  become  of  little  es¬ 
teem  ;  but  when  the  want  of  a  thing  is  w  ,  , 

/An  ^  &  We  lose  for  not 

l6ltj  it  t Ii 0 ii  comes  under,  in  the  eyes  as^ing. 
of  him  that  feels  it,  that  estimate  that  properly  is  its 
due,  and  so  consequently  it  will  be  thereafter  used. 
Had  my  Lord  granted  you  a  conductor,  you  would 
not  either  so  have  bewailed  that  oversight  of  yours 
in  not  asking  for  one,  as  now  you  have  occasion  to  do. 

So  all  things  work  for  good,  and  tend  to  make  you 
more  wary. 


238  Christiana’s  dream  repeated. 

Chr.  Shall  we  go  back  again  to  my  Lord,  and  con¬ 
fess  our  folly,  and  ask  one  ? 

Rel.  Your  confession  of  your  folly  I  will  present 
him  with.  To  go  back  again,  you  need  not ;  for  in  all 
places  where  you  shall  come,  you  will  find  no  want 
at  all ;  for  in  every  of  my  Lord’s  lodgings,  which  he 
has  prepared  for  the  reception  of  his  pilgrims,  there  is 
sufficient  to  furnish  them  against  all  attempts  whatso¬ 
ever.  But,  as  I  said,  He  will  be  inquired  of  by  them  to 
do  it  for  them,  Ezek.  36 :  37.  And  ’tis  a  poor  thing  that 
is  not  worth  asking  for.  Whenhe  had  thus  said,  he  went 
back  to  his  place,  and  the  pilgrims  went  on  their  way. 
Mer.  Then  said  Mercy,  What  a  sudden  blank  is 

The  mistake  of  here !  I  made  account  we  had  been 
Mercy.  past  all  danger,  and  that  we  should 

never  see  sorrow  more. 

Chr.  Thy  innocency,  my  sister,  said  Christiana  to 

Mercy,  may  excuse  thee  much  :  but  as 
Christiana’s  guilt.  for  m(^  my  fault  jg  g0  much  the  greater, 

for  that  I  saw  this  danger  before  I  came  out  of  the 
doors,  and  yet  did  not  provide  for  it  when  provision 
might  have  been  had.  I  am  much  to  be  blamed. 

Mer.  Then  said  Mercy,  How  knew  you  this  before 
you  came  from  home?  Pray  open  to  me  this  riddle. 
Chr.  Why,  I  will  tell  you.  Before  I  set  foot  out  of 

Christiana’s  dream  doors,  one  night  as  I  lay  in  my  bed  I 
repeated.  had  a  dream  about  this  ;  for  methought 

I  saw  two  men,  as  like  these  as  ever  any  in  the  world 
could  look,  stand  at  my  bed’s  feet,  plotting  how  they 
might  prevent  my  salvation.  I  will  tell  you  their  very 
words.  They  said,  ( it  was  when  I  was  in  my  troubles, ) 
What  shall  we  do  with  this  woman  ?  for  she  cries  out 
waking  and  sleeping  for  forgiveness  ;  if  she  be  suffered 
to  go  on  as  she  begins,  we  shall  lose  her  as  we  have 


THEY  REACH  THE  INTERPRETER’S  HOUSE.  239 


lost  her  husband.  This  you  know  might  have  made 
me  take  heed,  and  have  provided  when  provision 
might  have  been  had. 

Mer.  Well,  said  Mercy,  as  by  this  neglect  we  have 
an  occasion  ministered  unto  us  to  be- 
hold  our  own  imperfections,  so  our  Lord  use  of  their  neglect 
has  taken  occasion,  thereby  to  make  01  <luty* 
manifest  the  riches  of  his  grace;  for  he,  as  we  see, 
has  followed  us  with  unasked  kindness,  and  has  de¬ 
livered  us  from  their  hands  that  were  stronger  than 
we,  of  his  mere  good  pleasure. 

Thus  now  when  they  had  talked  away  a  little  more 
time,  they  drew  near  to  a  house  which  stood  in  the 
way,  which  house  was  built  for  the  relief  of  pil¬ 
grims,  as  you  will  find  more  fully  related  in  the  first 
part  of  these  records  of  the  Pilgrim’s  Progress.  So 
they  drew  on  toward  the  house ;  (the  house  of  the 
Interpreter ;)  and  when  they  came  to  the  door  they 
heard  a  great  talk  in  the  house.  Then  Talk  in  the  in- 
they  gave  ear,  and  heard,  as  they  thought,  abX^Christ^na  a 
Christiana  mentioned  by  name;  for  you  going  on  pilgrim- 
must  know  that  there  went  along,  even  d°e’ 
before  her,  a  talk  of  her  and  her  children’s  going  on 
pilgrimage.  And  this  was  the  more  pleasing  to  them, 
because  they  had  heard  that  she  was  Christian’s  wife, 
that  woman  who  was  some  time  ago  so  unwilling  to 
hear  of  going  on  pilgrimage.  Thus,  therefore,  they 
stood  still,  and  heard  the  good  people  within  com¬ 
mending  her,  who  they  little  thought  stood  at  the 
door.  At  last  Christiana  knocked,  as  she  had  done  at 
the  gate  before.  Now,  when  she  had  knocked  there 
came  to  the  door  a  young  damsel,  and  The  door  is  open- 

,  .  .  ed  totherabylnno- 

opened  the  door,  and  looked,  and  behold  ceut. 
two  women  were  there. 


240 


JOY  AT  THEIR  COMING  IN  THE  HOUSE. 


Dam.  Then  said  the  damsel  to  them,  With  whom 
would  you  speak  in  this  place? 

Chr.  Christiana  answered,  We  understand  that 
this  is  a  privileged  place  for  those  that  are  become 
pilgrims,  and  we  now  at  this  door  are  such  :  where¬ 
fore  we  pray  that  we  may  be  partakers  of  that  for 
which  we  at  this  time  are  come  j  for  the  day,  as  thou 
seest,  is  very  far  spent,  and  we  are  loth  to  night  to  go 
any  further. 

Dam.  Pray  what  may  I  call  your  name,  that  I  may 
tell  it  to  my  Lord  within  ? 

Chr.  My  name  is  Christiana ;  I  was  the  wife  of 
that  pilgrim  that  some  years  ago  did  travel  this  way, 
and  these  be  his  four  children.  This  maiden  is  also 
my  companion,  and  is  going  on  pilgrimage  too. 

Innocent.  Then  Innocent  ran  in,  (for  that  was  her 
name,)  and  said  to  those  within,  Can  you  think  who 
is  at  the  door  ?  There  is  Christiana  and  her  children, 
and  her  companion,  all  waiting  for  entertainment 

'  Joy  in  the  house  here'  Then  they  leaPe(l  for  joy,  and 

of  the  interpreter  went  and  told  their  master.  So  he 
that  Christiana  is  .  ,  ,  .  .  ,  . 

turned  pilgrim.  came  to  the  door,  and  looking  upon  her, 
he  said,  Art  thou  that  Christiana  whom 
Christian  the  good  man  left  behind  him  when  he 
betook  himself  to  a  pilgrim’s  life  ? 

Chr.  I  am  that  woman  that  was  so  hard-hearted  as 
to  slight  my  husband’s  troubles,  and  that  left  him  to 
go  on  his  journey  alone,  and  these  are  his  four  chil¬ 
dren  5  but  now  also  I  am  come,  for  I  am  convinced 
that  no  way  is  right  but  this. 

Inter.  Then  is  fulfilled  that  whicli  is  written  of  the 
man  that  said  to  his  son,  “  Go  work  to-day  in  my  vine¬ 
yard  ;  and  he  said  to  his  father,  I  will  not  \  but  after¬ 
ward  repented  and  went,”  Matt.  21 :  29. 


THEIR  HAPPY  RECEPTION. 


241 

Chr.  Then  said  Christiana,  So  be  it.  Amen.  God 
make  it  a  true  saying  upon  me,  and  grant  that  I  may 
be  found  at  the  last  of  Him  in  peace,  without  spot, 
and  blameless. 

Inter.  Cut  why  standest  thou  thus  at  the  door  ? 
Come  in,  thou  daughter  of  Abraham  ;  we  were  talking 
of  thee  but  now,  for  tidings  have  come  to  us  before 
how  thou  art  become  a  pilgrim.  Come  children,  come 
in;  come,  maiden,  come  in.  So  he  had  them  all  into 
the  house. 

So  when  they  were  within,  they  were  bidden  to  sit 

down  and  rest  them;  the  which  when  they  had  done, 

those  that  attended  upon  the  pilgrims  in  the  house, 

came  into  the  room  to  see  them.  And  one  smiled. 

and  another  smiled,  and  they  all  smiled  0i()  saints  gIa(J 

for  joy  that  Christiana  was  become  a  to  sce  t,lc  young 
•  1  rr,,  ,  ,  .  ones  walk  in  God’s 

pilgrim.  I  hey  also  looked  upon  the  ways. 

boys,  they  stroked  them  over  their  faces  with  the  hand 

in  token  of  their  kind  reception  of  them  :  they  also 

carried  it  lovingly  to  Mercy,  and  bid  them  all  welcome 

into  their  master’s  house. 

After  a  while,  because  supper  was  not  ready,  the 
Interpreter  took  them  into  his  Signifi-  Th„  si„ni’ficnnt 
cant  Rooms,  3nd  showed  them  what  Rooins- 
Christiana’s  husband  had  seen  some  time  before.  Here 
therefore  they  saw  the  man  ?n  the  cage,  the  man  and 
his  dream,  the  man  that  cut  his  way  through  his  ene¬ 
mies,  and  the  picture  of  the  biggest  of  them  all, 
together  with  the  rest  of  those  things  that  were  then 
so  profitable  to  Christian. 

This  done,  and  after  those  things  had  been  some¬ 
what  digested  by  Christiana  and  her  company,  the 
Interpreter  takes  them  apart  again,  and  has  them  first 

21 


242 


THE  MAN  WITH  THE  MUCK-RAKE. 


The  man  with  "lto  a  room?  where  was  a  man  that  could 
the  muck-rake  ex-  look  no  way  but  downwards,  with  a 
funded.  muck-rake  in  his  hand.  There  stood 

also  one  over  his  head,  with  a  celestial  crown  in  his 
hand,  and  proffered  him  that  crown  for  his  muck¬ 
rake  ;  but  the  man  did  neither  look  up  nor  regard,  but 
raked  to  himself  the  straws,  the  small  sticks,  and  dust 
of  the  floor. 

Then  said  Christiana,  I  persuade  myself  that  I 
know  somewhat  the  meaning  of  this:  for  this  is  the 
figure  of  a  man  of  this  world  ;  is  it  not  good  sir  ? 

Inter.  Thou  hast  said  the  right,  said  he;  and  his 
muck-rake  doth  show  his  carnal  mind.  And  whereas 
thou  seest  him  rather  give  heed  to  rake  up  straws  and 
sticks,  and  the  dust  of  the  floor,  than  to  do  what  tie 
says  that  calls  to  him  from  above  with  the  celestial 
crown  in  his  hand  ;  it  is  to  show,  that  heaven  is  but  a 
fable  to  some,  and  that  things  here  are  counted  the 
only  things  substantial.  Now,  whereas  it  was  also 
showed  thee  that  the  man  could  look  no  way  but 
downwards,  it  is  to  let  thee  know  that  earthly  things, 
when  they  are  with  power  upon  men’s  minds,  quite 

Christiana’s  carry  their  hearts  away  from  God. 
prayer  against  the  Chr.  Then  said  Christiana,  O  delivei 
muck-rake.  me  from  this  muck-rake,  Prov.  30 :  8. 

Inter.  That  prayer,  said  the  Interpreter,  has  lain 
by  till  it  is  almost  rusty:  Give  me  not  riches,  is  scarce 
the  prayer  of  ten  thousand.  Straws,  and  sticks,  and 
dust,  with  most,  are  the  great  things  now  looked  after. 

With  that  Christiana  and  Mercy  wept,  and  said,  It 
is,  alas  !  too  true. 

When  the  Interpreter  had  showed  them  this,  he  had 
them  into  the  very  best  room  in  the  house ;  a  very 
brave  room  it  was.  So  he  bid  them  look  round  about, 


The  mai>  with  the  Muck-rake.  p.  242 


THE  SPIDER. 


243 

and  see  if  they  could  find  any  thing  profitable  there. 
Then  they  looked  round  and  round ;  for  there  was 
nothing  to  be  seen  but  a  very  great  spi¬ 
der  on  the  wall,  and  that  they  overlooked-  °f  the  *pider' 

Mer.  Then  said  Mercy,  Sir,  I  see  nothing:  but 
Christiana  held  her  peace. 

Inter.  But  said  the  Interpreter,  look  again.  She 
theiefoie  looked  again,  and  said,  Here  is  not  any  thing 
but  an  ugly  spider,  who  hangs  by  her  Taik  about  the 
hands  upon  the  wall.  Then  said  he,  Is  sPider- 
there  but  one  spider  in  all  this  spacious  room  ?  Then 
the  water  stood  in  Christiana’s  eyes,  for  she  was  a 
woman  quick  of  apprehension:  and  she  said,  Yea, 
Loid,  there  are  more  here  than  one  ;  yea,  and  spiders 
whose  venom  is  far  more  destructive  than  that  which 
is  in  her.  I  lie  Interpreter  then  looked  pleasantly  on 
hei,  and  said,  Thou  hast  said  the  truth.  This  made 
Mercy  to  blush,  and  the  boys  to  cover  their  faces;  for 
they  all  began  now  to  understand  the  riddle. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  again,  u  The  spider  taketh 
hold  with  her  hands,  as  you  see,  and  is  in  king’s  pa¬ 
laces.”  Prov.  30  :  28.  And  wherefore  is  this  recorded, 
but  to  show  you,  that  how  full  of  the  venom  of  sin 
soever  you  be,  yet  you  may,  by  the  hand  of  Faith, 
lay  hold  of  and  dwell  in  the  best  room  that  belongs  to 
the  King’s  house  above? 

Chr.  I  thought,  said  Christiana,  of  something  of 
this ;  but  I  could  not  imagine  it  all.  I  thought  that 
we  were  like  spiders,  and  that  we  looked  like  ugly 
creatures,  in  what  fine  rooms  soever  we  were :  but 
that  by  this  spider,  that  venomous  and  ill-favored 
creature,  we  were  to  learn  how  to  act  faith,  that  came 
not  into  my  thoughts ;  and  yet  she  had  taken  hold 
with  her  hands,  and,  as  I  see,  dwelleth  in  the  best 


244 


THE  HEN  AND  CHICKENS. 


room  in  the  house.  God  has  made  nothing  in  vain. 

Then  they  seemed  all  to  be  glad ;  but  the  water 
stood  in  their  eyes :  yet  they  looked  one  upon  another, 
and  also  bowed  before  the  Interpreter. 

He  had  them  then  into  another  room,  where  were 

or  the  hen  and  alien  and  chickens,  and  bid  them  ob- 
chiekens.  serve  a  while.  So  one  of  the  chickens 

went  to  the  trough  to  drink;  and  every  time  she  drank 
she  lifted  up  her  head  and  her  eyes  toward  heaven. 
See,  said  she,  what  this  little  chick  doth,  and  learn  of 
her  to  acknowledge  whence  your  mercies  come,  by  re¬ 
ceiving  them  with  looking  up.  Yet  again,  said  he,  ob¬ 
serve  and  look :  so  they  gave  heed,  and  perceived  that 
the  hen  did  walk  in  a  fourfold  method  toward  her 
chickens :  1.  She  had  a  common  call,  and  that  she 
hath  all  day  long.  2.  She  had  a  special  call,  and  that 
she  had  but  sometimes.  3.  She  had  a  brooding  note, 
Matt.  23  :  37.  And,  4.  She  had  an  outcry. 

Now,  said  he,  compare  this  hen  to  your  King,  and 
these  chickens  to  his  obedient  ones ;  for  answerable  to 
her,  he  himself  hath  his  methods  which  he  walketh  in 
toward  his  people.  By  his  common  call  he  gives  no¬ 
thing;  by  his  special  call,  he  always  has  something  to 
give;  he  has  also  a  brooding  voice,  for  them  that  are 
under  his  wing;  and  he  has  an  outcry,  to  give  the 
alarm  when  he  seeth  the  enemy  come.  I  chose,  my 
darlings,  to  lead  you  into  the  room  where  such  things 
are,  because  you  are  women,  and  they  are  easy  for  you. 

Chr.  And,  sir,  said  Christiana,  pray  let  us  see  some 
more.  So  he  had  them  into  the  slaughter-house,  where 
or  the  butcher  and  was  a  butcher  killing  a  sheep;  and  be- 
ike  sheep.  hold,  tfoe  sheep  was  and  took  her 

death  patiently.  Then  said  the  Interpreter,  You  must 
learn  of  this  sheep  to  suffer,  and  to  put  up  with  wrongs 


HIE  FIELD.  THE  ROBIN  AND  SPIDER.  245 

without  murmurings  and  complaints.  Behold  how 
quietly  she  takes  her  death,  and,  without  objecting, 
she  suffereth  her  skin  to  be  pulled  over  her  ears.  Your 
King  doth  call  you  his  sheep. 

Alter  this  he  led  them  into  his  garden,  where  was 
great  variety  of  flowers;  and  he  said,  Do 
you  see  all  these  ?  So  Christiana  said,  °f  the  sarden- 
^es.  Then  said  he  again,  Behold,  the’ flowers  are  di¬ 
verse  in  stature,  in  quality,  and  color,  and  smell,  and 
virtue;  and  some  are  better  than  others;  also  where 
the  gardener  hath  set  them,  there  they  stand,  and  quar¬ 
rel  not  one  with  another. 

Again,  he  had  them  into  his  field,  which  he  had 
sown  with  wheat  and  corn :  but  when 
they  beheld,  the  tops  of  all  were  cut  off,  0fthefield- 
and  only  the  straw  remained,  he  said  again  This 
ground  was  dunged,  and  ploughed,  and  sowed,  but 
what  shall  we  do  with  the  crop?  Then  said  Chris¬ 
tina,  Burn  some,  and  make  muck  of  the  rest.  Then 
said  the  Interpreter  again,  Fruit,  you  see,  is  that  thing 
you  look  for ;  and  for  want  of  that  you  condemn  it  to 
the  fire,  and  to  be  trodden  under  foot  of  men :  beware 
that  in  this  you  condemn  not  yourselves. 

Then,  as  they  were  coming  in  from  abroad  they 
espied  a  little  robin  with  a  great  spider  or, he  robin  and 
in  his  mouth.  So  the  Interpreter  said,  the  spider. 

Look  here.  So  they  looked,  and  Mercy  wondered: 
but  Christiana  said,  What  a  disparagement  is  it  to  such 
a  pretty  little  bird  as  the  robin-red-breast  is,  he  being 
also  a  bird  above  many,  that  loveth  to  maintain  a  kind 
of  sociableness  with  men !  I  had  thought  they  had 
lived  upon  crumbs  of  bread,  or  upon  other  such  harm¬ 
less  matter;  I  like  him  worse  than  I  did. 

The  Interpreter  then  replied,  This  robin  is  an  em- 

21* 


246  the  interpreter’s  profitable  sayings. 

blem,  very  apt  to  set  forth  some  professors  by ;  for  to 
sight  they  are,  as  this  robin,  pretty  of  note,  color,  and 
carriage.  They  seem  also  to  have  a  very  great  love  for 
professors  that  are  sincere ;  and,  above  all  others,  to 
desire  to  associate  with  them,  and  to  be  in  their  com¬ 
pany,  as  if  they  could  live  upon  the  good  man’s 
crumbs.  They  pretend  also,  that  therefore  it  is  that 
they  frequent  the  house  of  the  godly,  and  the  appoint¬ 
ments  of  the  Lord:  but  when  they  are  by  themselves, 
as  the  robin,  they  can  catch  and  gobble  up  spiders ; 
they  can  change  their  diet,  drink  iniquity,  and  swallow 
down  sin  like  water. 

So  when  they  were  come  again  into  the  house,  be¬ 
cause  supper  as  yet  was  not  ready, 
WinJet’  a”*1  that  Christiana  again  desired  that  the  Inter- 
which  yet  lies  un-  preter  would  either  show,  or  tell  of, 
some  other  things  that  are  profitable. 

Then  the  Interpreter  began,  and  said :  The  fatter 
the  sow  is,  the  more  she  desires  the  mire;  the  fatter 
the  ox  is,  the  more  gamesomely  he  goes  to  the  slaugh¬ 
ter  ;  and  the  more  healthy  the  lustful  man  is,  the  more 
prone  he  is  unto  evil.  There  is  a  desire  in  women  to 
go  neat  and  fine;  and  it  is  a  comely  thing  to  be  adorned 
with  that  which  in  God’s  sight  is  of  great  price.  ’Tis 
easier  watching  a  night  or  two,  than  to  sit  up  a  whole 
year  together :  so  ’tis  easier  for  one  to  begin  to  profess 
well,  than  to  hold  out  as  he  should  to  the  end.  Every 
shipmaster,  when  in  a  storm,  will  willingly  cast  that 
overboard  which  is  of  the  smallest  value  in  the  vessel ; 
but  who  will  throw  the  best  out  first?  None  but  he 
that  feareth  not  God.  One  leak  will  sink  a  ship,  and 
one  sin  will  destroy  a  sinner.  He  that  forgets  his  friend 
is  ungrateful  unto  him  ;  but  he  that  forgets  his  Savior 
is  unmerciful  to  himself.  He  that  lives  in  sin,  and 


OF  THE  ROTTEN  TREE. 


247 

looks  for  happiness  hereafter,  is  like  him  that  soweth 
cockle,  and  thinks  to  fill  his  barn  with  wheat  or  barley. 
If  a  man  would  live  well,  let  him  fetch  his  last  day  to 
him,  and  make  it  always  his  company-keeper.  Whis¬ 
pering,  and  change  of  thoughts,  prove  that  sin  is  in  the 
world.  If  the  world,  which  God  sets  light  by,  is  count¬ 
ed  a  tiling  of  that  worth  with  men,  what  is  heaven 
that  God  commendeth  !  If  the  life  that  is  attended  with 
so  many  troubles,  is  so  loth  to  be  let  go  by  us,  what  is 
the  life  above  !  Every  body  will  cry  up  the  goodness 
of  men;  but  who  is  there  that  is  as  he  should  be,  af¬ 
fected  with  the  goodness  of  God  ?  We  seldom  sit  down 
to  meat,  but  we  eat,  and  leave.  So  there  is  in  Jesus 
Christ  more  merit  and  righteousness  than  the  whole 
world  has  need  of. 

W7hen  the  Interpreter  had  done,  he  takes  them  out 
into  his  garden  again,  and  had  them  to  Oftho  tree  that  is 
a  tree  whose  inside  was  all  rotten  and  rot,cn  at  heart. 

gone,  and  yet  it  grew  and  had  leaves.  Then  said 
Mercy,  What  means  this?  This  tree,  said  he,  whose 
outside  is  fair,  and  whose  inside  is  rotten,  is  that  to 
which  many  may  be  compared  that  are  in  the  garden 
of  God ;  who  with  their  mouths  speak  high  in  behalf 
of  God,  but  indeed  will  do  nothing  for  him ;  whose 
leaves  are  fair,  but  their  heart  good  for  nothing  but  to 
be  tinder  for  the  devil’s  tinderbox. 

Now  supper  was  ready,  the  table  spread,  and  all 
things  set  on  the  board;  so  they  sat 
down,  and  did  eat,  when  one  had  given  The>’areatsuPPer- 
thanks.  And  the  Interpreter  did  usually  entertain  those 
that  lodged  with  him  with  music  at  meals;  so  the  min- 
stiels  played.  rlhere  was  also  one  that  did  sing,  and 
a  very  fine  voice  he  had.  His  song  was  this: 


248 


CHRISTIANA  RELATES  HER  EXPERIENCE. 


The  Lord  is  only  my  support, 

And  he  that  doth  me  feed  ; 

How  can  I  then  want  any  thing 
Whereof  I  stand  in  need? 

When  the  song  and  music  were  ended  the  Interprf 
ter  asked  Christiana,  what  it  was  tha-» 

a  t  at  supper.  mQve  jier  herself  to 

pilgrim’s  life.  Christiana  answered,  First,  the  loss  of 

a  repetition  of  my  lrasband  came  into  my  mind,  al 
Christiana’s  expe-  which  I  was  heartily  grieved ;  but  all 

that  was  but  natural  affection.  Then 
after  that  came  the  troubles  and  pilgrimage  of  my  hus¬ 
band  into  my  mind,  and  also  how  like  a  churl  I  had 
carried  it  to  him  as  to  that.  So  guilt  took  hold  of  my 
mind,  and  would  have  drawn  me  into  the  pond,  but 
that  opportunely  I  had  a  dream  of  the  well-being  of 
my  husband,  and  a  letter  sent  by  the  King  of  that  coun¬ 
try  where  my  husband  dwells,  to  come  to  him.  The 
dream  and  the  letter  together  so  wrought  upon  my 
mind  that  they  forced  me  to  this  way. 

Inter.  But  met  you  with  no  opposition  before  you 
set  out  of  doors? 

Chr.  Yes,  a  neighbor  of  mine,  one  Mrs.  Timorous: 
she  was  akin  to  him  that  would  have  persuaded  my 
husband  to  go  back  for  fear  of  the  lions.  She  also  be  - 
fooled  me,  for,  as  she  called  it,  my  intended  desperate 
adventure;  she  also  urged  what  she  could  to  dis¬ 
hearten  me  from  it,  the  hardship  and  troubles  that  my 
husband  met  with  in  the  way ;  but  all  this  I  got  over 
pretty  well.  But  a  dream  that  I  had  of  two  ill-looking 
ones,  that  I  thought  did  plot  how  to  make  me  miscarry 
in  my  journey,  that  hath  troubled  me  much :  yea,  it 
still  runs  in  my  mind,  and  makes  me  afraid  of  every 
v*ne  that  I  meet,  lest  they  should  meet  me  to  do  me  a 


mercy’s  experience. 


249 


.mischief,  and  to  turn  me  out  of  my  way.  Yea,  I  may 
teii  my  Lord,  though  I  would  not  have  every  body 
know  it,  that  between  this  and  the  gate  by  which  we 
got  into  the  way,  we  were  both  so  sorely  assaulted, 
that  we  were  made  to  cry  out  murder;  and  the  two 
that  made  this  assault  upon  us  were  like  the  two  that 
I  saw  in  my  dream. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter,  Thy  beginning  is  good ; 
thy  latter  end  shall  greatly  increase.  So  he  addressed 
himself  to  Mercy,  and  said  unto  her,  a  question  put  to 
And  what  moved  thee  to  come  hither,  Mercy- 
sweet  heart? 

Meu.  Then  Mercy  blushed  and  trembled,  and  for  a 
while  continued  silent. 

Inter.  Then  said  he,  Be  not  afraid;  only  believe, 
and  speak  thy  mind. 


Mercy’s  answer. 


Mercy.  So  she  began,  and  said,  Truly,  sir,  my  want 
of  experience  is  that  which  makes  me 
covet  to  be  in  silence,  and  that  also  that 
tills  me  with  fears  of  coming  short  at  last.  I  cannot 
tell  of  visions  and  dreams,  as  my  friend  Christiana  can; 
nor  know  I  what  it  is  to  mourn  for  my  refusing  the 
counsel  of  those  that  were  good  relations. 

Inter.  What  was  it  then,  dear  heart,  that  hath  pre¬ 
vailed  with  thee  to  do  as  thou  hast  done  ? 

Mer.  Why,  when  our  friend  here  was  packing  up 
to  be  gone  from  our  town,  I  and  another  went  acci¬ 
dentally  to  see  her.  So  we  knocked  at  the  door  and 
went  in.  When  we  were  within,  and  seeing  what  she 
was  doing,  we  asked  her  what  was  her  meaning.  She 
said  she  was  sent  for  to  go  to  her  husband;  and  then 
she  up  and  told  us  how  she  had  seen  him  in  a  dream, 
dwelling  in  a  curious  place,  among  immortals,  wear¬ 
ing  a  crown,  playing  upon  a  harp,  eating  and  drinking 


250  mercy’s  experience. 

at  his  Prince’s  table,  and  singing  praises  to  Him  for 
bringing  him  thither,  &c.  Now  methought,  while  she 
was  telling  these  things  unto  us,  my  heart  burned 
within  me.  And  I  said  in  my  heart,  If  this  be  true  I 
will  leave  my  father  and  my  mother,  and  the  land  of 
my  nativity,  and  will,  if  I  may,  go  along  with  Chris¬ 
tiana.  So  I  asked  her  further  of  the  truth  of  these 
things,  and  if  she  would  let  me  go  with  her ;  for  I  saw 
now  that  there  was  no  dwelling,  but  with  the  danger 
of  ruin,  any  longer  in  our  town.  But  yet  I  came  away 
with  a  heavy  heart ;  not  for  that  I  was  unwilling  to 
come  away,  but  for  that  so  many  of  my  relations  were 
left  behind.  And  I  am  come  with  all  the  desire  of  my 
heart,  and  will  go,  if  I  may,  with  Christiana  unto  her 
husband  and  his  King. 

Inter.  Thy  setting  out  is  good,  for  thou  hast  given 
credit  to  the  truth ;  thou  art  a  Ruth,  who  did,  for  the 
love  she  bare  to  Naomi,  and  to  the  Lord  her  God,  leave 
father  and  mother,  and  the  land  of  her  nativity,  to 
come  out  and  go  with  a  people  that  she  knew  not  here¬ 
tofore,  Ruth,  2:11,  12.  The  Lord  recompense  thy 
work,  and  full  reward  be  given  thee  of  the  Lord  God 
of  Israel,  under  whose  wings  thou  art  come  to  trust. 

Now  supper  was  ended,  and  preparation  was  made 
They  undress  for  bed;  the  women  were  laid  singly 
themselves  for  bed.  a]0ne,  and  the  boys  by  themselves.  Now 

when  Mercy  was  in  bed,  she  could  not  sleep  for  joy, 
for  that  now  her  doubts  of  missing  at  last  were  removed 
further  from  her  than  ever  they  were  before.  So  she 
lay  blessing  and  praising  God,  who  had  had  such  favor 
for  her. 

In  the  morning  they  arose  with  the  sun,  and  pre¬ 
pared  themselves  for  their  departue :  but  the  Interpre¬ 
ter  would  have  them  tarry  a  while ;  For,  said  he,  you 
must  orderly  go  from  hence.  Then  said  he  to  the 


THE  BATH.— THE  PILGRIMS  ARE  SEALED.  251 

damsel  that  first  opened  to  them,  Take  them  and  have 
them  into  the  garden  to  the  bath,  and  The  b.th  „f  s.-c- 
there  wash  them,  and  make  them  clean  Nation, 
from  the  soil  which  they  have  gathered  by  traveling. 
Then  Innocent  the  damsel  took  them  and  had  them 
into  the  garden,  and  brought  them  to  the  bath ;  so  she 
told  them,  that  there  they  must  wash  and  be  clean,  for 
iso  her  Master  would  have  the  women  to  do  that  called 
at  his  house  as  they  were  going  on  pilgrimage.  Then 
they  went  in  and  washed,  yea,  they  and 
the  boys,  and  all ;  and  they  came  out  of  They  wash  in  iL 
toe  bath,  not  only  sweet  and  clean,  but  also  much  en¬ 
livened,  and  strengthened  in  their  joints.  So  when 
they  came  in,  they  looked  fairer  a  deal  than  when 
they  went  out  to  the  washing. 

When  they  were  returned  out  of  the  garden  from 
the  bath,  the  Interpreter  took  them,  and  looked  upon 
them,  and  said  unto  them,  Fair  as  the  moon.  Then  he 
called  for  the  seal  wherewith  they  used  to  be  sealed 
that  are  washed  in  his  bath.  So  the  seal 
was  brought,  and  he  set  his  mark  upon  Thcy  are  5ealed- 
them,  that  they  might  be  known  in  the  places  whither 
they  were  yet  to  go.  Now  the  seal  was  the  contents 
and  sum  of  the  passover  which  the  children  of  Israel 
did  eat,  Lxod.  13  :  8 — 10,  when  they  came  out  of  the 
*and  Egypt;  and  the  mark  was  set  between  their 
eyes.  This  seal  added  greatly  to  their  beauty,  for  it 
was  an  ornament  to  their  faces.  It  also  added  to  their 
gravity,  and  made  their  countenance  more  lik;  Uose 
of  angels. 

Then  said  the  Interpreter  again  to  the  damsel  that 
"  aited  upon  these  women,  Go  into  the  vestry,  and  fetch 
out  garments  foi  these  people.  So  she  went  and  fetch¬ 
ed  out  white  raiment,  and  laid  it  down 
before  him;  so  he  commanded  them  to  They  are  clotllf<L 


252 


GREAT-HEART. 


put  it  on :  it  was  fine  linen,  white  and  clean.  When 
the  women  were  thus  adorned  they  seemed  to  be  a 
terror  one  to  the  other ;  for  that  they 

True  humility.  cquj(j  nQj.  gee  g]ory  each  one  ha(J 

in  herself,  which  they  could  see  in  each  other.  Now 
therefore  they  began  to  esteem  each  other  better  than 
themselves.  For,  You  are  fairer  than  I,  said  one;  and 
You  are  more  comely  than  I,  said  another.  The  chil¬ 
dren  also  stood  amazed,  to  see  into  what  fashion  they 
were  brought. 

The  Interpreter  then  called  for  a  man-servant  of  his, 
one  Great-Heart,  and  bid  him  take  sword,  and  helmet, 
and  shield ;  and,  Take  these  my  daughters,  said  he, 
conduct  them  to  the  house  called  Beautiful,  at  which 
place  they  will  rest  next.  So  he  took  his  weapons,  and 
went  before  them ;  and  the  Interpreter  said,  God  speed. 
Those  also  that  belonged  to  the  family  sent  them  away 
with  many  a  good  wish.  So  they  went  on  their  way, 
and  sang : 


This  place  hath  been  our  second  stage : 

Here  we  have  heard  and  seen 
Those  good  things,  that  from  age  to  age 
To  others  liid  have  been. 


The  dunghill-raker,  spider,  hen, 
The  chicken,  too,  to  me 

Have  taught  a  lesson  :  let  me  then 
Conformed  to  it  be. 

The  butcher,  garden,  and  the  field, 
The  robin  and  his  bait, 

Also  the  rotten  tree,  doth  yield 
Mo  argument  of  weight; 

To  move  me  for  to  watch  and  pray 
To  strive  to  be  sincere : 

To  take  my  cross  up  day  by  day, 
And  serve  the  Lord  with  fear. 


THEY  COME  TO  THE  CROSS. 


253 


Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on,  and 
Great-Heart  before  them.  So  they  went,  and  came  to 
the  place  where  Christian’s  burden  fell  off  his  back, 
and  tumbled  mto  a  sepulchre.  Here  then  they  made 
a  pause ;  and  here  also  they  blessed  God.  Now,  said 
Christiana,  comes  to  my  mind  what  was  said  to  us  at 
the  gate,  to  wit,  that  we  should  have  pardon  by  word 
and  deed;  by  word,  that  is,  by  the  promise;  by  deed, 
to  wit,  in  the  way  it  was  obtained.  What  the  promise 
is,  of  that  I  know  something ;  but  what  it  is  to  have 
pardon  by  deed,  or  in  the  way  that  it  was  obtained, 
Mr.  Great-Heart,  I  suppose  you  know,  wherefore,  if 
you  please,  let  us  hear  you  discourse  thereof. 

Great.  Pardon  by  the  deed  done,  is  pardon  obtained 
by  some  one  for  another  that  hath  need  » 

,  A  comment  upon 

thereof;  not  by  the  person  pardoned:  what  was  said  at 

but  in  the  way,  saith  another,  in  which  cdu£‘ Vour  he 

l  have  obtained  it.  So  then,  to  speak  to  by 

the  question  more  at  large,  the  pardon 

that  you,  and  Mercy,  and  these  boys,  have  attained,  was 

obtained  by  another;  to  wit,  by  Him  that  let  you  in  at 

the  gate.  And  he  hath  obtained  it  in  this  double  way ; 

he  has  performed  righteousness  to  cover  you,  and  spilt 

his  blood  to  wash  you  in. 

Chr.  But  if  He  parts  with  his  righteousness  to  us, 
what  will  he  have  for  himself? 

Great.  He  has  more  righteousness  than  you  have 
Aced  of,  or  than  he  needeth  himself. 

Chr.  Pray  make  that  appear. 

Great.  With  all  my  heart :  but  first  I  must  premise, 
that  He  of  whom  we  are  now  about  to  speak,  is  one 
that  has  not  his  fellow.  He  has  two  natures  in  one 
person,  plain  to  be  distinguished,  impossible  to  be  di¬ 
vided  Unto  each  of  these  natures  a  righteousness  be- 

22 


254  OF  OUR  BEING  JUSTIFIED  BY  CHRIST. 

longeth,  and  each  righteousness  is  essential  to  that  na¬ 
ture  ;  so  that  one  may  as  easily  cause  the  nature  to  be 
extinct  as  to  separate  its  justice  or  righteousness  from 
it.  Ot  these  righteousnesses  therefore  we  are  not  made 
partakers,  so  as  that  they,  or  any  of  them,  should  be 
put  upon  us,  that  we  might  be  made  just,  and  live 
thereby.  Besides  these,  there  is  a  righteousness  which 
this  person  has,  as  these  two  natures  are  joined  in  one. 
And  this  is  not  the  righteousness  of  the  Godhead,  as 
distinguished  from  the  manhood;  nor  the  righteous¬ 
ness  of  the  manhood,  as  distinguished  from  the  God¬ 
head;  but  a  righteousness  which  standeth  in  the  union 
of  both  natures,  and  may  properly  be  called  the  righte¬ 
ousness  that  is  essential  to  his  being  prepared  of  God 
to  the  capacity  of  the  mediatory  office,  which  he  was 
to  be  intrusted  with.  If  he  parts  with  his  first  right¬ 
eousness,  he  parts  with  his  Godhead  ;  if  he  parts  with 
his  second  righteousness,  he  parts  with  the  purity  of 
his  manhood ;  if  he  parts  with  this  third,  he  parts  with 
that  perfection  which  capacitates  him  for  the  office  of 
mediation.  He  has  therefore  another  righteousness, 
which  standeth  in  performance,  or  obedience  to  a  re¬ 
vealed  will ;  and  that  is  it  that  he  puts  upon  sinners, 
and  that  by  which  their  sins  are  covered.  Wherefore 
he  saith,  “  As  by  one  man’s  disobedience  many  were 
made  sinners,  so  by  the  obedience  of  one  shall  many 
be  made  righteous,”  Rom.  5  :  19. 

Chr.  But  are  the  other  righteousnesses  of  no  use 
to  us  ? 

Great.  Yes;  for  though  they  are  essential  to  his 
natures  and  offices,  and  cannot  be  communicated  unto 
another ;  yet  it  is  by  virtue  of  them  that  the  righteous¬ 
ness  that  justifies  is  for  that  purpose  efficacious.  The 
righteousness  of  his  Godhead  gives  virtue  to  his  obe- 


OP  OUR  BEING  JUSTIFIED  BY  CHRIST.  255 

dience;  the  righteousness  of  his  manhood  giveth  capa¬ 
bility  10  his  obedience  to  justify ;  and  the  righteousness 
that  standeth  in  the  union  of  these  two  natures  to  his 
office,  giveth  authority  to  that  righteousness  to  do  the 
work  for  which  it  was  ordained. 

So  then  here  is  a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God, 
has  no  need  of;  for  lie  is  God  without  it.  Here  is  a 
righteousness  that  Christ,  as  man,  has  no  need  of  to 
make  him  so ;  for  he  is  perfect  man  without  it.  Again, 
here  is  a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God-man,  has  no 
need  of;  for  he  is  perfectly  so  without  it.  Here  then 
is  a  righteousness  that  Christ,  as  God,  and  as  God-man, 
has  no  need  of  with  reference  to  himself,  and  therefore, 
he  can  spare  it;  a  justifying  righteousness,  that  he 
for  himself  wanteth  not,  and  therefore  giveth  it  away. 
Hence  it  is  called  the  gift  of  righteousness.  This  right¬ 
eousness,  since  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord  has  made  him¬ 
self  under  the  law,  must  be  given  away ;  for  the  law 
doth  not  only  bind  him  that  is  under  it,  to  do  justly, 
but  to  use  charity,  Rom.  5  :  17.  Wherefore  he  must, 
or  ought,  by  the  law,  if  he  hath  two  coats,  to  give  one 
to  him  that  hath  none.  Now  our  Lord  indeed  hath  two 
coats,  one  for  himself,  and  one  to  spare ;  wherefore  he 
freely  bestows  one  upon  those  that  have  none.  And 
thus,  Christiana  and  Mercy,  and  the  rest  of  you  that 
are  here,  doth  your  pardon  come  by  deed,  or  by  the 
work  of  another  man.  Your  Lord  Christ  is  he  that 
worked,  and  hath  given  away  what  he  wrought  for  to 
the  next  poor  beggar  he  meets. 

But  again,  in  order  to  pardon  by  deed,  there  must 
something  be  paid  to  God  as  a  price,  as  well  as  some¬ 
thing  prepared  to  cover  us  withal.  Sin  has  delivered 
us  up  to  the  just  curse  of  a  righteous  law  :  now  from 
this  curse  we  must  be  justified  by  way  of  redemption, 


256  OF  OUR  BEING  JUSTIFIED  BY  CHRIST. 

a  price  being  paid  for  the  harms  vve  have  doi  e ;  and 
this  is  by  the  blood  of  your  Lord,  who  came  and  stood 
in  your  place  and  stead,  and  died  your  death  for  your 
transgressions.  Thus  has  he  ransomed  you  from  your 
transgressions  by  blood,  and  covered  your  polluted 
and  deformed  souls  with  righteousness,  Rom.  8:  34;  for 
the  sake  of  which,  God  passed  by  you,  and  will  not 
hurt  you  when  he  comes  to  judge  the  world,  Gal.  3 : 13* 

Chr.  This  is  brave  1  Now  I  see  that  there  was  some- 
Christiana  affected  thing  to  be  learned  by  our  being  par- 
redemp1UoiiWay  °f  ^oncd  by  word  and  deed.  Good  Mercy, 
let  us  labor  to  keep  this  in  mind:  and, 
my  children,  do  you  remember  it  also.  But,  sir,  was 
not  this  it  that  made  my  good  Christian’s  burden  fall 
from  off  his  shoulder,  and  that  made  him  give  three 
leaps  for  joy? 

Great.  Yes,  it  was  the  belief  of  this  that  cut  off 
those  strings  that  could  not  be  cut  by 

Sr  bound  Chnf-  other  means;  and  it  was  to  give  him  a 
tian’s  burden  to  proof  of  the  virtue  of  this,  that  lie  was 

him  were  cut. 

suffered  to  carry  his  burden  to  the  cross. 

Chr.  I  thought  so  ;  for  though  my  heart  was  light¬ 
some  and  joyous  before,  yet  it  is  ten  times  more  light¬ 
some  and  joyous  now.  And  I  am  persuaded  by  what 
I  have  felt,  though  I  have  felt  but  little  as  yet,  that  if 
the  most  burdened  man  in  the  world  was  here,  and 
did  see  and  believe  as  I  now  do,  it  would  make  his 
heart  merry  and  blithe. 

Great.  There  is  not  only  comfort  and  the  ease  of  a 

How  affection  to  burden  brought  to  us  by  the  sight  and 
Christ  is  begot  in  consideration  of  these,  but  an  endeared 

affection  begot  in  us  by  it ;  for  who  can, 
f  he  doth  but  once  think  that  pardon  comes  not  only 
by  promise,  but  thus,  but  be  affected  with  the  way  and 


§ 


ADMIRATION  OF  THE  GRACE  OF  CHRIST. 


257 


means  of  his  redemption ,  and  so  with  the  man  that 
wrought  it  for  him  ? 

Chr.  True,  methinks  it  makes  my  heart  bleed,  to 
think  that  he  should  bleed  for  me.  Oh  !  thou  loving 
One  :  Oh  !  thou  blessed  One.  Thou  deservest  to  have 
me  ;  thou  hast  bought  me.  Thou  deservest  to  have  me 
all :  thou  hast  paid  for  me  ten  thousand  cause  of  admira- 
times  more  than  I  am  worth.  No  mar- tioa- 
vel  that  this  made  the  tears  stand  in  my  husband’s 
eyes,  and  that  it  made  him  trudge  so  nimbly  on.  I 
am  persuaded  he  wished  me  with  him:  but,  vile 
wretch  that  I  was !  I  let  him  come  all  alone.  O 
Mercy,  that  thy  father  and  mother  were  here  ?  yea, 
and  Mrs.  Timorous  also !  nay,  I  wish  now  with  all  my 
heart  that  here  was  Madam  Wanton  too.  Surely, 
surely,  their  hearts  would  be  affected  ;  nor  could  the 
fear  of  the  one,  nor  the  powerful  lusts  of  the  other, 
prevail  with  them  to  go  home  again,  and  refuse  to 
become  good  pilgrims. 

Great.  You  speak  now  in  the  warmth  of  your  af¬ 
fections  ;  will  it,  think  you,  be  always  thus  with  you  ? 
Besides,  this  is  not  communicated  to  every  one,  not  to 
every  one  that  did  see  your  Jesus  bleed.  There  were 
that  stood  by,  and  that  saw  the  blood  run  from  his  heart 
to  the  ground,  and  yet  were  so  far  off  this,  that,  instead 
of  lamenting,  they  laughed  at  him  and,  instead  of  be¬ 
coming  his  disciples,  did  harden  their  hearts  against 
him.  So  that  all  that  you  have,  my 
daughters,  you  have  by  peculiar  im-  chSt^Sfd1!!* 
pression  made  by  a  divine  contempla-  yhatJfs  has  done, 

.  ,  V  i  ,  is  a  thing  special 

ting  upon  what  I  have  spoken  to  you. 

Remember  that  ’twas  told  you,  that  the  hen,  by  her 
common  call,  gives  no  meat  to  her  chickens.  This 
you  have  therefore  by  a  special  grace. 

22* 


258 


SIMPLE,  SLOTH,  AND  PRESUMPTION  HANGING. 


Now  I  saw  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  until 
they  were  come  to  the  place  that  Simple,  and  Sloth, 
and  Presumption,  lay  and  slept  in  when  Christian 
went  by  on  pilgrimage  :  and  behold,  they  were  hanged 
up  in  irons  a  little  way  off  on  the  other  side. 

Mer.  Then  said  Mercy  to  him  that 
Presumption  hang- was  their  guide  and  conductor,  What 
ed;  and  why.  are  these  three  men  ?  and  for  what  are 

they  hanged  there  ? 

Great.  These  three  were  men  of  bad  qualities ; 
they  had  no  mind  to  be  pilgrims  themselves,  and 
whomsoever  they  could,  they  hindered.  They  were 
for  sloth  and  folly  themselves,  and  whomsoever  they 
could  persuade  they  made  so  too,  and  withal  taught 
them  to  presume  that  they  should  do  well  at  last. 
They  were  asleep  when  Christian  went  by,  and  now 
you  go  by,  they  are  hanged. 

Mer.  But  could  they  persuade  any  to  be  of  their 
opinion  ? 

Great.  Yes,  they  turned  several  out  of  the  way, 
There  was  Slow-pace  that  they  per¬ 
suaded  to  do  as  they.  They  also  pre 
vailed  with  one  Short-wind,  with  one  No-heart,  with 
one  Linger-after-lust,  and  with  one  Sleepy-head,  and 
with  a  young  woman,  her  name  was  Dull,  to  turn  out 
of  the  way  and  become  as  they.  Besides,  they 
brought  up  an  ill-report  of  your  Lord,  persuading 
others  that  he  was  a  hard  taskmaster.  They  also 
brought  up  an  evil  report  of  the  good  land,  ‘saying  it 
was  not  half  so  good  as  some  pretended  it  was. 
They  also  began  to  vilify  his  servants,  and  to  count 
the  very  best  of  them  meddlesome,  troublesome,  busy- 
bodies.  Further,  they  would  call  the  bread  of  God 
husks  j  the  comforts  of  his  children,  fancies  j  the 


Their  crimes. 


THEY  REACH  THE  HILL  DIFFICULTY.  259 

travel  and  labor  of  pilgrims,  things  to  no  purpose. 

Chr.  Nay,  said  Christiana,  if  they  were  such,  they 
shall  never  be  bewailed  by  me :  they  have  but  what 
they  deserve;  and  I  think  it  is  well  that  they  stand  so 
near  the  highway,  that  others  may  see  and  take  warn¬ 
ing.  But  had  it  not  been  well  if  their  crimes  had  been 
engraven  in  some  plate  of  iron  or  brass,  and  left  here 

wheie  they  did  their  mischiefs,  for  a  caution  to  other 
bad  men? 

Great.  So  it  is,  as  you  may  well  perceive,  if  you 
will  go  a  little  to  the  wall. 

Mer.  No,  no ;  let  them  hang,  and  their  names  rot, 
and  their  crimes  live  for  ever  against  them.  I  think  it 
a  high  favor  that  they  were  hanged  before  we  came 
hither:  who  knows  else  what  they  might  have  done 

to  such  poor  women  as  we  are.  Then  she  turned  it 
into  a  song,  saying. 

Now  then  you  three  hang  there,  and  be  a  sign 
To  all  that  shall  against  the  truth  combine. 

And  let  him  tiiat  comes  after,  fear  this  end, 

If  unto  pilgrims  he  is  not  a  friend. 

And  thou,  my  soul,  of  all  such  men  beware, 

That  unto  holiness  opposers  are. 

Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  to  the  foot  of  the 
hill  Difficulty,  where  again  the  good  Mr.  Great-heart 
took  an  occasion  to  tell  them  what  happened  there 
when  Chiistian  himself  went  by.  So  he  had  them 
fhst  to  the  spring.  Lo,  saith  he,  this  is  the  spring  that 
Christian  drank  of  before  he  went  up  this  hill :  and 
then  it  was  clear  and  good  ;  but  now  it 
is  dirty  with  the  feet  of  some  that  are  .iV’tfJH' 
not  desirous  that  pilgrims  here  should  ‘r*110  iu  erroneous 

r  ®  wuv/uiu  times 

quench  their  thirst,  Ezek.  34:  18,  19. 

Thereat  Mercy  said,  And  why  so  envious,  trow  ?  But, 


260 


THE  TWO  BY-WAYS. 


said  the  guide,  it  will  do,  if  taken  up  and  put  into  a 
vessel  that  is  sweet  and  good;  for  then  the  dirt  will 
sink  to  the  bottom,  and  the  water  come  out  by  itself 
more  clear.  Thus  therefore  Christiana  and  her  com¬ 
panions  were  compelled  to  do.  They  took  it  up,  and 
put  it  into  an  earthen  pot,  and  so  let  it  stand  till  the 
dirt  was  gone  to  the  bottom,  and  then  they  drank 
thereof. 

Next  he  showed  them  the  two  by-ways  that  were  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill,  where  Formality  and  Hypocrisy 
lost  themselves.  And,  said  he,  these  are  dangerous 
paths.  Two  were  here  cast  away  when  Christian 
came  by ;  and  although,  as  you  see,  these  ways  are 

The  paths,  though  since  stopped  up  with  chains,  posts,  and 

barred  up,  will  not  a  yet  there  are  those  that  will 

keep  all  from  going  '  J 

in  them.  choose  to  adventure  here  rather  than 

take  the  pains  to  go  up  this  hill. 

Chr.  “  The  way  of  transgressors  is  hard,”  Prov.  13 . 
15.  It  is  a  wonder  that  they  can  get  into  these  ways 
without  danger  of  breaking  their  necks. 

Great.  They  will  venture ;  yea,  if  at  any  time  any 
of  the  King’s  servants  do  happen  to  see  them,  and  do 
call  upon  them,  and  tell  them  that  they  are  in  the 
wrong  way,  and  do  bid  them  beware  of  the  danger ; 
then  they  will  railingly  return  them  answer,  and  say, 
“  As  for  the  word  that  thou  hast  spoken  unto  us  in 
the  name  of  the  King,  we  will  not  hearken  unto  thee ; 
but  we  will  certainly  do  whatsoever  thing  goeth  out 
of  our  mouths,”  Jer.  44:  16,  17.  Nay,  if  you  look  a 
little  further,  you  will  see  that  these  ways  are  made 
cautionary  enough,  not  only  by  these  posts,  and  ditch, 
and  chain,  but  also  by  being  hedged  up :  yet  they 
will  choose  to  go  there. 

Chr.  They  are  idle ;  they  love  not  to  take  pains  i 


THE  ARBOR  ON  THE  HILL. 


261 


up-hill  way  is  unpleasant  to  them.  So 

r  ini  ,  .  ,  .  .  .  The  reason  why 

it  is  iumlled  unto  them  as  it  is  written,  some  do  choose  to 
“  The  way  of  the  slothful  man  is  as  a  §om  by'vvays' 
hedge  of  thorns,”  Prov.  15:  19.  Yea,  they  will  ra¬ 
ther  choose  to  walk  upon  a  snare,  than  go  up  this  hill, 
and  the  rest  of  this  way  to  the  city. 

Then  they  set  forward,  and  began  to  go  up  the  hill 
and  up  the  hill  they  went.  But  before  The  hill  puts  the 
they  got  to  the  top,  Christiana  began  to  pilgruns  to  lU 
pant,  and  said,  I  dare  say  this  is  a  breathing  hill ;  no 
marvel  if  they  that  love  their  ease  more  than  their 
souls  choose  to  themselves  a  smoother  way.  Then 
said  Mercy,  I  must  sit  down :  also  the  least  of  the 
children  began  to  cry.  Come,  come,  said  Great-heart, 
sit  not  down  here ;  for  a  little  above  is  the  Prince’s 
arbor.  Then  he  took  the  little  boy  by  the  hand,  and 
led  him  up  thereto. 

When  they  were  come  to  the  arbor  they  were  very 
willing  to  sit  down,  for  they  were  all  in  They  sit  in  the 
a  pelting  heat.  Then  said  Mercy,  arhor‘ 

“  How  sweet  is  rest  to  them  that  labor,”  Matt.  11:28; 
and  how  good  is  the  Prince  of  pilgrims  to  provide 
such  resting  places  for  them !  Of  this  arbor  I  have 
heard  much;  but  I  never  saw  it  before.  But  here  let 
us  beware  of  sleeping ;  for,  as  I  have  heard,  it  cost 
poor  Christian  dear. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  the  little  ones,  Come, 
my  pretty  boys,  how  do  you  do  ?  what  think  you  now 
of  going  on  pilgrimage?  Sir,  said  the  The  little  boy* 
least,  I  was  almost  beat  out  of  heart ; 
but  I  thank  you  for  lending  me  a  hand,  Mercy, 
at  my  need.  And  I  remember  now  what  my  mother 
hath  told  me,  namely,  that  the  way  to  heaven  is  as  & 
ladder,  and  the  way  to  hell  is  as  down  a  hill.  But  I 


262 


THE  PILGRIMS  REFRESHED. 


had  rather  go  lip  the  ladder  to  life,  than  down  the  hiV 
to  death. 

Then  said  Mercy,  But  the  proverb  is,  To  go  down 
the  hill  is  easy.  But  James  said,  (for  that  was  his 
name,)  The  day  is  coming  when,  in  my  opinion,  going 
down  the  hill  will  be  the  hardest  of  all.  That’s  a  good 
boy,  said  his  master  ;  thou  hast  given  her  a  right  an¬ 
swer.  Then  Mercy  smiled,  but  the  little  boy  did  blush. 

Chr.  Come,  said  Christiana,  will  you  eat  a  bit,  a 

They  refresh  little  to  sweeten  your  mouths  while  you 
themselves.  sit  here  to  rest  your  legs  ?  for  I  have 
here  a  piece  of  pomegranate,  which  Mr.  Interpreter 
put  it  into  my  hand  just  when  I  came  out  of  his  door  : 
he  gave  me  also  a  piece  of  a  honeycomb,  and  a  little 
bottle  of  spirits.  I  thought  he  gave  you  something; 
said  Mercy,  because  he  called  you  aside.  Yes,  so  he 
did,  said  the  other ;  but,  said  Christiana,  it  shall  be 
still  as  I  said  it  should,  when  at  first  we  came  from 
home ;  thou  shalt  be  a  sharer  in  all  the  good  that  1 
have,  because  thou  so  willingly  didst  become  my  com¬ 
panion.  Then  she  gave  to  them,  and  they  did  eat, 
both  Mercy  and  the  boys.  And,  said  Christiana  to 
Mr.  Great-heart,  sir,  will  you  do  as  we  ?  But  he  ar.*- 
swered,  You  are  going  on  pilgrimage,  and  presently  1 
shall  return ;  much  good  may  what  you  have  do  to 
you  :  at  home  I  eat  the  same  every  day.  Now  when 
they  had  eaten  and  drank,  and  had  chatted  a  little 
longer,  their  guide  said  to  them,  The  day  weara 
away  ;  if  you  think  good,  let  us  prepare  to  be  going. 
So  they  got  up  to  go,  and  the  little  boys  went  before  ; 
Christiana  forgets  but  Christiana  forgot  to  take  her  bottle 
her  bottle  of  spirits,  of  spirits  with  her,  so  she  sent  her  little 

boy  back  to  fetch  it.  Then  said  Mercy,  I  think  this  is 
a  losing  place ;  here  Christian  lost  his  roll,  and  here 


CHRISTIANA  FORGETS  HER  BOTTLE  OF  SPIRITS.  263 

Christiana  left  her  bottle  behind  her  :  sir,  what  is  the 
cause  of  this  ?  So  their  guide  made  answer,  and  said, 
I  iie  cause  is  sleep,  or  forgetfulness :  some  sleep  when 
they  should  keep  awake,  and  some  forget  when  they 
should  remember ;  and  this  is  the  very  cause  why 
often  at  the  resting-places  some  pilgrims,  in  some 
things,  come  off  losers.  Pilgrims  should  watch,  and 
remember  wThat  they  have  already  received,  under 
their  greatest  enjoyments;  but  for  want  of  doing  so, 
ofttimes  their  rejoicing  ends  in  tears 
and  their  sunshine  in  a  cloud ;  witness  Mark  lhis* 
the  story  of  Christian  at  this  place. 

When  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  Mistrust 
and  Timorous  met  Christian,  to  persuade  him  to  go 
back  for  fear  of  the  lions,  they  perceived  as  it  were  a 
stage,  and  before  it,  toward  the  road  a  broad  plate  with  a 
copy  of  verses  written  thereon,  and  underneath  the 
reason  of  raising  up  that  stage  in  that  place  rendered. 
The  verses  were  these  : 

Let  him  that  sees  this  stage,  take  heed 
Unto  his  heart  and  tongue ; 

Lest,  if  he  do  not,  here  lie  speed 
As  some  have  long  agone. 

The  words  underneath  the  verses  were,  “This 
stage  was  built  to  punish  those,  upon,  who,  through 
timorousness  or  mistrust,  shall  be  afraid  to  go  further 
on  pilgrimage.  Also,  on  this  stage  both  Mistrust  and 
Timorous  were  burned  through  the  tongue  with  a 
hot  iron,  for  endeavoring  to  hinder  Christian  on  his 
journey.” 

Then  said  Mercy,  This  is  much  like  to  the  saying 
of  the  Beloved,  “  What  shall  be  given  unto  thee,  or 
what  shall  be  done  unto  thee,  thou  false  tongue? 


284  GRIM,  THE  GIANT,  AND  THE  LI0N3. 

Sharp  arrows  of  the  mighty,  with  coals  of  juniper, 
Psalm  120:  3,  4. 

So  they  went  on  till  they  came  within  sight  of  the 
lions.  Now  Mr.  Great-heart  was  a  strong  man,  so  he 
was  not  afraid  of  a  lion.  But  yet  when  they  were 
come  up  to  the  place  where  the  lions  were,  the  boys, 

of lhat  weilt  before’  were  now  §lad  10 

those  that*  go  on  cringe  behind,  for  they  were  afraid  of 
LrmwiungeeUr'hbut  the  lions ;  so  they  stepped  back,  and 
shrink  when  trou-  went  behind.  At  this  their  guide 
bies  come.  smiled,  and  said,  How  now,  my  boys 

do  you  love  to  go  before  when  no  danger  doth  ap 
proach,  and  love  to  come  behind  so  soon  as  the  liona 

appear  ? 

Nov/  as  they  went  on  Mr.  Great-heart  drew  hi< 
sword,  with  intent  to  make  a  way  for  the  pilgrims  in 
,  „  .  u  spite  of  the  lions.  Then  there  appeared 

giant,  and  of  his  one  that,  it  seems,  had  taken  upon  hnu 
hacking  the  lions.  tQ  back  the  lions .  and  he  said  to  thn 

pilgrims  guide,  What  is  the  cause  of  your  coming, 
hither?  Now  the  name  of  that  man  was  Grim,  (X 
Bloody-man,  because  of  his  slaying  of  pilgrims;  and 
he  was  of  the  race  of  the  giants. 

Great.  Then  said  the  pilgrims  guide,  These  worn* ft 
and  children  are  going  on  pilgrimage,  and  this  is  the 
way  they  must  go ;  and  go  it  they  shall,  in  spite  of 

thee  and  the  lions. 

Grim.  This  is  not  their  way,  neither  shall  they  go 
therein.  I  am  come  forth  to  withstand  them,  and  to 

that  end  will  back  the  lions. 

Now,  to  say  truth,  by  reason  of  the  fierceness  of 
the  lions,  and  of  the  grim  carriage  of  him  that  did 
back  them,  this  way  of  late  had  been  much  unoccu' 
pied,  and  was  almost  all  grown  over  with  grass. 


-i 


Victory  of  Great-heart  over  Giant  Grim. 


GRIM  BACKS  THE  LIONS.— IS  SLAIN. 


265 


Chr.  Then  said  Christiana,  Though  the  highways 
have  been  unoccupied  heretofore,  and  though  the 
travellers  have  been  made  in  times  past  to  walk 
through  by-ways,  it  must  not  be  so  now  I  am  risen, 
now  I  am  arisen  a  mother  in  Israel,  Judges,  9,  7. 

Grim.  Then  he  swore  by  the  lions  that  it  should, 
and  therefore  bid  them  turn  aside,  for  they  should  not 
have  passage  there. 

But  Great-heart  their  guide  made  first  his  approach 
unto  Grim,  and  laid  so  heavily  at  him  A  fight  betwixt 
with  his  sword,  that  he  forced  him  to  Grim  1111(1  Great- 
a  retreat.  heait* 

Grim.  Then  said  he  that  attempted  to  back  the 
lions,  Will  you  slay  me  upon  my  own  ground  ? 

Great.  It  is  the  King’s  highway  that  we  are  in, 
and  in  his  way  it  is  that  thou  hast  placed  the  lions ; 
but  these  women,  and  these  children,  though  weak,  shall 
hold  on  their  way  in  spite  of  thy  lions.  And  with  that 
he  gave  him  again  a  downright  blow,  and  brought 
him  upon  his  knees.  With  this  blow  also  he  broke  his 
helmet,  and  with  the  next  he  cut  off  an  arm.  Then 
did  the  giant  roar  so  hideously  that  his  voice  fright¬ 
ened  the  women,  and  yet  they  were  glad  to  see  him 
lie  sprawling  upon  the  ground.  Now 
the  lions  were  chained,  and  so  of  them¬ 
selves  could  do  nothing.  Wherefore,  when  old  Grim, 
that  intended  to  back  them,  was  dead,  Mr.  Great-heart 
said  to  the  pilgrims,  Come  now,  and  follow  me,  and 
no  hurt  shall  happen  to  you  from  the  lions.  They 


The  victory. 


therefore  went  on,  but  the  women 


They  pass  by  tha 


trembled  as  they  passed  by  them ;  the  lions- 
boys  also  looked  as  if  they  would  die ;  but  they  all 
got  by  without  further  hurt. 

Now  when  they  were  within  sight  of  the  Porter’s 

23 


266  THE?  REACH  THE  PORTER’S  LOLGE. 

lodge,  they  soon  came  up  unto  it,  but  they  made  the 
more  haste  after  this  to  go  thither,  because  it  is  dange¬ 
rous  travelling  there  in  the  night.  So  when  they 

They  come  to  were  come  to  the  gate  the  guide  knock- 
the  Porter’s  lodge,  and  the  Porter  cried,  Who  is  there  ? 

But  as  soon  as  the  guide  had  said,  It  is  I,  he  knew  his 
voice,  and  came  down,  for  the  guide  had  oft  before 
that  come  thither  as  a  conductor  of  pilgrims.  When 
he  was  come  down  he  opened  the  gate;  and  seeing 
the  guide  standing  just  before  it,  (for  he  saw  not  the 
women,  for  they  were  behind  him,)  he  said  unto  him, 
How  now,  Mr.  Great-heart,  what  is  your  business 
here  so  late  to-night?  I  have  brought,  answered  he, 
some  pilgrims  hither,  where,  by  my  Lord’s  command¬ 
ment,  they  must  lodge:  I  had  been  here  some  time 
ago,  had  I  not  been  opposed  by  the  giant  that  did  use 
to  back  the  lions.  But  I,  after  a  long  and  tedious 
combat  with  him,  have  cut  him  off,  and  have  brought 
the  pilgrims  hither  in  safety. 

Por.  Will  you  not  go  in,  and  stay  till  morning? 

Great-heart  at-  Great.  No,  I  will  return  to  my  Lord 

tempts  to  go  back,  to-lligllt 

Chr.  O,  sir,  I  know  not  how  to  be  willing  you 
should  leave  us  in  our  pilgrimage,  you  have  been  so 
faithful  and  so  loving  to  us ;  you  have  fought  so 
stoutly  for  us,  you  have  been  so  hearty  in  counselling 
of  us,  that  I  shall  never  forget  your  favor  toward  us. 

Mer.  Then  said  Mercy,  O  that  we  might  have  thy 

The  pilgrims  im-  company  to  our  journey’s  end  !  How 
piore  ins  company  can  such  poor  women  as  we  hold  out  in 

a  way  so  full  of  troubles  as  this  way 
is,  without  a  friend  and  defender  ? 

James.  Then  said  James,  the  youngest  of  the  boys, 
Pray,  sir,  be  persuaded  to  go  with  us,  and  help  us,  be- 


GREAT-HEART  LEAVES  THEM, 


267 


cause  we  are  so  weak,  and  the  way  so  dangerous  as  it  is. 

Great.  I  am  at  my  Lord’s  commandment ;  if  he  shall 
allot  me  to  be  your  guide  quite  through,  I  will  willing¬ 
ly  wait  upon  you.  But  here  you  failed  at  first;  for 
when  he  bid  me  come  thus  far  with  Help  lost  for  want 
you,  then  you  should  have  begged  me  of  of  askfogfor  it- 
him  to  go  quite  through  with  you,  and  he  would  have 
granted  your  request.  However,  at  present  I  must 
withdraw ;  and  so,  good  Christiana,  Mercy,  and  my 
brave  children,  adieu. 

Then  the  Porter,  Mr.  Watchful,  asked  Christiana  of 
her  country,  and  of  her  kindred.  And  she  said,  I 
come  from  the  city  of  Destruction.  I  am  a  widow 
woman,  and  my  husband  is  dead;  his  name  was 
Christian,  the  pilgrim.  How !  said  the  Porter,  was  he 
your  husband?  Yes,  said  she,  and  these  are  his  chil¬ 
dren  ;  and  this,  pointing  to  Mercy,  is  one  of  my  towns¬ 
women.  Then  the  Porter  rang  his  bell,  as  at  such 
times  he  is  wont,  and  there  came  to  the  door  one  of 
the  damsels,  whose  name  was  Humble-mind;  and  to 
her  the  Porter  said,  Go  tell  it  within  that  Christiana, 
the  wife  of  Christian,  and  her  children,  are  come 
hither  on  pilgrimage.  She  went  in  therefore,  and  told 
it.  But  oh,  what  noise  for  gladness  was  Joyat  the 
there  within  when  the  damsel  did  but  of  the  piigliM 
drop  that  word  out  of  her  mouth  !  coming‘ 

So  they  came  with  haste  to  the  Porter,  for  Chris¬ 
tiana  stood  still  at  the  door.  Then  some  of  the  most 
grave  said  unto  her,  Come  in,  Christiana,  come  in, 
thou  wife  of  that  good  man ;  come  in,  thou  blessed 
woman,  come  in,  with  all  that  are  with  thee.  So  she 
went  in,  and  they  followed  her  that  were  her  children 
and  companions.  Now  when  they  were  gone  in,  they 
were  had  into  a  very  large  room,  where  they  were  bid- 


268 


THE  PILGRIMS  ENTERTAINED. 


den  to  sit  down :  so  they  sat  down,  and  the  chief  of  the 
house  were  called  to  see  and  welcome  the  guests. 
Then  they  came  in,  and  understanding  who  they  were, 

Christians’  love  did  salute  each  one  with  a  kiss,  and  said, 
is  'kindled  at  the  ^eicome  ye  vessels  of  the  grace  of 

sight  of  one  auo-  1  J  .  _ 

ther.  God ;  welcome  to  us,  your  friends. 

Now,  because  it  was  somewhat  late,  and  because  the 
pilgrims  were  weary  with  their  journey,  and  also 
made  faint  with  the  sight  of  the  fight,  and  of  the  ter¬ 
rible  lions,  therefore  they  desired,  as  soon  as  might  be, 
to  prepare  to  go  to  rest.  Nay,  said  those  of  the  family, 
refresh  yourselves  first  with  a  morsel  of  meat ;  for  they 
had  prepared  for  them  a  lamb,  with  the  accustomed 
sauce  belonging  thereto,  Exod.  12  :  21 ;  John,  1  :  29; 
for  the  Porter  had  heard  before  of  their  coming,  and 
had  told  it  to  them  within.  So  when  they  had  suppecj 
and  ended  their  prayer  with  a  psalm,  they  desired  thei 
might  go  to  rest.  But  let  us,  said  Christiana,  if  we  may 
be  so  bold  as  to  choose,  be  in  that  chamber  that  was 
my  husband’s  when  he  was  here ;  so  they  had  them 
up  thither,  and  they  lay  all  in  a  room.  When  they 
were  at  rest,  Christiana  and  Mercy  entered  into  dis¬ 
course  about  things  that  were  convenient. 

Chr.  Little  did  I  think  once,  when  my  husband 

Christ’s  bosom  is  went  on  pilgrimage,  that  I  should  ever 
for  all  pilgrims.  ]iave  followed. 

Mer.  And  you  as  little  thought  of  lying  in  his  bed, 
and  in  his  chamber  to  rest,  as  you  do  now. 

Chr.  And  much  less  did  I  ever  think  of  seeing  his 
face  with  comfort,  and  of  worshipping  the  Lord,  the 
King,  with  him  ;  and  yet  now  I  believe  I  shall. 

Mer.  Hark  I  don’t  you  hear  a  noise? 

Chr.  Yes,  it  is,  as  I  believe,  a  noise 
of  music,  for  joy  that  we  are  here. 


Music. 


mercy’s  dream. 


269 


Mek.  Wonderful !  Music  in  the  house,  music  in  the 
heart,  and  music  also  in  heaven,  for  joy  that  we  are 
here  !  Thus  they  talked  a  while,  and  then  betook  them¬ 
selves  to  sleep. 

So  in  the  morning  when  they  were  awake,  Chris¬ 
tiana  said  to  Mercy,  What  was  the  mat-  Mercy  did  laugh 
!  ter  that  you  did  laugh  in  your  sleep  to-  inherueep. 
night?  I  suppose  you  were  in  a  dream. 

Mer.  So  I  was,  and  a  sweet  dream  it  was ;  but  are 
you  sure  I  laughed  ? 

Chr.  Yes,  you  laughed  heartily;  but  prithee, 
Mercy,  tell  me  thy  dream. 

Mer.  I  was  dreaming  that  I  sat  all  alone  in  a  soli¬ 
tary  place,  and  was  bemoaning  of  the  „  ,  3 

J  r  7  0  Mercy  s  dream. 

hardness  of  my  heart.  Now  I  had  not 
sat  there  long,  but  methought  many  were  gathered 
about  me  to  see  me,  and  to  hear  what  it  was  that  I 
i  said.  So  they  hearkened,  and  I  went  on  bemoaning 
[  the  hardness  of  my  heart.  At  this  some  of  them 
laughed  at  me,  some  called  me  fool,  and  some  began 
tO  thrust  me  about.  With  that,  me-  What  her  dream 
thought  I  looked  up  and  saw  one  com-  was- 
ing  with  wings  toward  me.  So  he  came  directly  to  me, 
and  said  Mercy,  what  aileth  thee?  Now  when  he  had 
heard  me  make  my  complaint,  he  said,  Peace  be  to 
thee;  he  also  wiped  my  eyes  with  his  handkerchief, 
and  clad  me  in  silver  and  gold,  Ezek.  16  :  8 — 11.  He 
put  a  chain  about  my  neck,  and  ear-rings  in  my  ears, 
and  a  beautiful  crown  upon  my  head.  Then  he  took 
me  by  the  hand,  and  said,  Mercy,  come  after  me.  So 
he  went  up,  and  I  followed  till  we  came  at  a  golden 
gate.  Then  he  knocked ;  and  when  they  within  had 
opened,  the  man  went  in,  and  I  followed  him  up  to  a 
throne,  upon  which  one  sat;  and  he  said  to  me,  Wel- 

23* 


270 


mercy’s  dream. 

come,  daughter.  The  place  looked  bright  and  tvvink 
ling,  like  the  stars,  or  rather  like  the  sun,  and  I  thought 
that  I  saw  your  husband  there :  so  I  awoke  from  my 
dream.  But  did  I  laugh? 

Chr.  Laugh !  ay,  and  well  you  might  to  see  your¬ 
self  so  well.  For  you  must  give  me  leave  to  tell  you, 
that  I  believe  it  was  a  good  dream;  and  that  as  you 
have  begun  to  find  the  first  part  true,  so  you  shall  find 
the  second  at  last.  “  God  speaks  once,  yea  twice,  yet 
man  perceiveth  it  not;  in  a  dream,  in  a  vision  of  the 
night,  when  deep  sleep  falleth  upon  men,  in  slumber- 
ings  upon  the  bed,”  Job,  33  :  14,  15.  We  need  not, 
when  a-bed,  to  lie  awake  to  talk  with  God;  he  can  visit 
us  while  we  sleep,  and  cause  us  then  to  hear  his  voice. 
Our  heart  oftentimes  wakes  when  we  sleep,  and  God 
can  speak  to  that,  either  by  words,  by  proverbs,  or  by 
signs  and  similitudes,  as  well  as  if  one  was  awake. 

Mer.  Well,  I  am  glad  of  my  dream ;  for  I  hope  ere 
Mercy  glad  of  her  long  to  see  it  fulfilled,  to  the  making  me 
dream'  laugh  again. 

Chr.  I  think  it  is  now  time  to  rise,  and  to  knov 
what  we  must  do. 

Mer.  Pray,  if  they  invite  us  to  stay  a  while,  let  us 
willingly  accept  of  the  proffer.  I  am  the  more  willing 
to  stay  a  while  here,  to  grow  better  acquainted  with 
these  maids :  methinks  Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity 
have  very  comely  and  sober  countenances. 

Chr.  We  shall  see  what  they  will  do. 

So  when  they  were  up  and  ready,  they  came  down, 
and  they  asked  one  another  of  their  rest,  and  if  it  wa 9 
comfortable  or  not. 

Mer.  Very  good,  said  Mercy:  it  was  one  of  the  best 
night’s  lodgings  that  ever  I  had  in  my  life. 

Then  said  Prudence  and  Piety,  If  you  will  be  per 


THE  PILGRIMS  STAY  SOME  TIME. 


271 


suaded  to  stay  here  a  while,  you  shall  have  what  the 
house  will  afford. 


Char.  Ay,  and  that  with  a  very  good  will,  said 
Charity.  So  they  consented,  and  stayed  Tl)ey  stay  hcre 
there  about  a  month,  or  above,  and  be- some  time- 


came  very  profitable  one  to  another.  And  because 
Prudence  would  see  how  Christiana  had  brought  up 
her  children,  she  asked  leave  of  her  to  prudence  de  • 
catechise  them.  So  she  gave  her  free  to  catechise  cfiris- 
consent.  Then  she  began  with  the  tiana’s  children- 
youngest,  whose  name  was  James. 


Prud.  And  she  said,  Come  James, 
canst  thou  tell  me  who  made  thee?  James catechised 

James.  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the 
Holy  Ghost. 

Prud.  Good  boy.  And  canst  thou  tell  who  saves 
thee  ? 


James.  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the 
Holy  Ghost. 

Prud.  Good  boy  still.  But  how  doth  God  the  Fa¬ 
ther  save  thee? 

James.  By  his  grace. 

Prud.  How  doth  God  the  Son  save  thee  ? 

James.  By  his  righteousness,  death  and  blood,  and 
_ife. 


Prud.  IJoav  doth  God  the  Holy  Ghost  save  thee  ? 

James.  By  his  illumination,  his  renovation,  and  his 
preservation. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  Christiana,  You  are  to  be 
commended  for  thus  bringing  up  your  children.  I  sup 
pose  I  need  not  ask  the  rest  these  questions,  since  the 
youngest  of  them  can  answer  them  so  well.  I  will 
theiefore  now  apply  myself  to  the  next  youngest. 

Prud.  Then  she  said,  Come,  Joseph,  (for  his  name 


272 


THE  CHILDREN  CATECHISED. 


was  Joseph,)  will  you  let  me  catechise 

Joseph  catechised.  _ 

you  ? 

Joseph.  With  all  my  heart 
Prud.  What  is  man? 

Joseph.  A  reasonable  creature,  so  made  by  God,  as 
my  brother  said. 

Prud.  What  is  supposed  by  this  word,  saved  7 
Joseph.  That  man,  by  sin,  has  brought  himself  into 

a  state  of  captivity  and  misery. 

Prud.  What  is  supposed  by  his  being  saved  by  the 

Trinity  ? 

Joseph.  That  sin  is  so  great  and  mighty  a  tyrant 
that  none  can  pull  us  out  of  its  clutches  but  God;  and 
that  God  is  so  good  and  loving  to  man,  as  to  pull  him 
indeed  out  of  this  miserable  state. 

Prud.  What  is  God’s  design  in  saving  poor  men? 
Joseph.  The  glorifying  of  his  name,  of  his  giace, 
and  justice,  &c.  and  the  everlasting  happiness  of  his 
creature. 

Prud.  Who  are  they  that  will  be  saved  ? 

Joseph.  They  that  accept  of  his  salvation. 

Prud.  Good  boy,  Joseph ;  thy  mother  hath  taught 
thee  well,  and  thou  hast  hearkened  unto  what  she  has 
said  unto  thee. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  Samuel,  who  was  the  eldest 
son  but  one : 

Prud.  Come,  Samuel,  are  you  willing 

Samuel  catechised.  ^  ,  should  catechise  you  7 

Sam.  Yes,  forsooth,  if  you  please. 

Prud.  What  is  heaven? 

Sam.  A  place  and  state  most  blessed,  because  God 
dwelleth  there. 

Prud.  What  is  hell? 

Sam.  A  place  and  state  most  woful,  because  it  is  the 
dwelling-place  of  sin,  the  devil,  and  death. 


THE  CHILDREN  CATECHISED. 


273 


Prud.  Why  wouldst  thou  go  to  heaven  ? 

Sam.  That  I  may  see  God,  and  serve  him  without 
weariness;  that  I  may  see  Christ,  and  love  him 
everlastingly;  that  I  may  have  that  fullness  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  in  me  which  I  can  by  no  means  here 
enjoy. 

Prud.  A  very  good  boy  also,  and  one  that  has  learn¬ 
ed  well. 

Then  she  addreseed  herself  to  the  eldest,  whose 
name  was  Matthew;  and  she  said  to  Matthew  cate- 
him,  Come,  Matthew,  shall  I  also  cate-  chlsed- 
chise  yon  ? 

Matt.  With  a  very  good  will. 

Prud.  I  ask  then,  if  there  was  ever  any  thing  that 
had  a  being  antecedent  to,  or  before  God. 

Matt.  No,  for  God  is  eternal ;  nor  is  there  any  thing, 
excepting  himself,  that  had  a  being,  until  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  the  first  day.  For  in  six  days  the  Lord  made 
heaven  and  earth,  the  sea,  and  all  that  in  them  is. 

Prud.  What  do  you  think  of  the  Bible  ? 

Matt.  It  is  the  holy  word  of  God. 

Prud.  Is  there  nothing  written  therein  but  what  you 
understand  ? 

Matt.  Yes,  a  great  deal, 

Prud.  What  do  you  do  when  you  meet  with  such 
places  therein  that  you  do  not  understand  ? 

Matt.  I  think  God  is  wiser  than  I.  I  pray  also  that 
he  will  please  to  let  me  know  all  therein  that  he  knows 
will  be  for  my  good. 

Prud.  How  believe  you  as  touching  the  resurrection 
of  the  dead  ? 

Matt.  I  believe  they  shall  rise  the  same  that  was 
buried;  the  same  in  nature,  though  not  in  corruption. 
And  I  believe  this  upon  a  double  account :  first,  because 


274 


CLOSING  REMARKS  BY  PRUDENCE. 


God  has  promised  it;  secondly,  because  he  is  able  to 
perform  it. 

Then  said  Prudence  to  the  boys,  You  must  still 

Prudence’s  con-  hearken  to  your  mother;  for  she  can 
catechising0 of  the  ^e^ch  y0U  mOre.  YOU  lUUSt  also  dili- 

boys.  gently  give  ear  to  what  good  talk  you 

shall  hear  from  others;  for,  for  your  sakes  do  they  speak 
good  things.  Observe  also,  and  that  with  carefulness, 
what  the  heavens  and  the  earth  do  teach  you ;  but  es¬ 
pecially  be  much  in  the  meditation  of  that  book  which 
was  the  cause  of  your  father’s  becoming  a  pilgrim.  I, 
for  my  part,  my  children,  will  teach  you  what  I  can 
while  you  are  here,  and  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  ask 
me  questions  that  tend  to  godly  edifying. 

Now  by  that  these  pilgrims  had  been  at  this  place 
a  week,  Mercy  had  a  visitor  that  pretended  some  good 
Mercy  has  a  sweet-  will  unto  her,  and  his  name  was  Mr. 
1lieart’  Brisk ;  a  man  of  some  breeding,  and  that 

pretended  to  religion,  but  a  man  that  stuck  very  close 
to  the  world.  So  he  came  once,  or  twice,  or  more,  to 
Mercy,  and  offered  love  unto  her.  Now  Mercy  was  of 
a  fair  countenance,  and  therefore  the  more  alluring. 

Her  mind  also  was  to  be  always  busying  of  herself 
in  doing  ;  for  when  she  had  nothing  to  do  for  herself, 
she  would  be  making  hose  and  garments  for  o.'hers, 
and  would  bestow  them  upon  those  that  had  need. 
And  Mr.  Brisk  not  knowing  where  or  how  she  dis¬ 
posed  of  what  she  made,  seemed  to  be  greatly  taken, 
for  that  he  found  her  never  idle.  I  will  warrant  her  a 
good  housewife,  quoth  he  to  himself. 

Mercy  then  revealed  the  business  to  the  maidens 

Mercy  inquire,  of  that  Were  of  the  houf  >  311(1  inquired  of 

the  maids  concern- them  concerning  him,  for  they  did 
ing  Mr.  Brisk.  know  him  better  than  she.  So  they  told 


TALK  BETWIXT  MR.  BRISK  AND  MERCY.  275 

ner  that  he  was  a  very  busy  young  man,  and  one 
who  pretended  to  religion,  but  was,  as  they  feared,  a 
stranger  to  the  power  of  that  which  is  good. 

Nay  then,  said  Mercy,  I  will  look  no  more  on  him ; 
for  I  purpose  never  to  have  a  clog  to  my  soul. 

Prudence  then  replied,  that  there  needed  no  great 
matter  of  discouragement  to  be  given  to  him ;  her  con¬ 
tinuing  so  as  she  had  begun  to  do  for  the  poor  would 
quickly  cool  his  courage. 

So  the  next  time  he  came  he  finds  her  at  her  old 
work,  making  tilings  for  the  poor.  Then  Ta]k  betwixt  Mcr- 
said  he,  What !  always  at  it?  Yes,  said  and  Mr- !{risk* 
she,  either  for  myself  or  for  others.  And  what  canst 
thou  earn  a  day  ?  said  he.  I  do  these  things,  replied 
she,  that  I  may  be  rich  in  good  works,  laying  up  in 
store  for  myself  a  good  foundation  against  the  time  to 
come,  that  I  may  lay  hold  on  eternal  life,  1  Tim. 
6  : 17—19.  Why,  pr’ythee,  what  doest  thou  with  them  ? 
said  he.  Clothe  the  naked,  said  she.  He  forsakes  her, 
With  that  his  countenance  fell.  So  he  and  'vl'y- 
forbore  to  come  at  her  again.  And  when  he  was  asked 
the  reason  why,  he  said,  that  Mercy  was  a  pretty  lass, 
but  troubled  with  ill  conditions. 

When  he  had  left  her,  Prudence  said,  Did  I  not  tell 
thee  that  Mr.  Brisk  would  soon  forsalve  thee?  yea,  he 
will  raise  up  an  ill  report  of  thee ;  for,  notwithstanding 
his  pretence  to  religion,  and  his  seem- Mercyin  theprac. 
ing  love  to  Mercy,  yet  Mercy  and  he  are  tice  of  mercy  re- 
of  tempers  so  different  that  I  believe  fyTn’the ‘namcTf 
they  will  never  come  together.  mer°y is  liked- 

Mer.  I  might  have  had  husbands  before  now,  though 
1  spoke  not  of  it  to  any ;  but  they  were  such  as  did  not 
like  my  conditions,  though  never  did  any  of  them  find 
fault  with  my  person.  So  they  and  I  could  not  agree. 


276 


MR.  BRISK  LEAVE3  MERCY. 


Mercy’s  resolution. 


Prud.  Mercy  in  our  days  is  little  set  by  any  further 
than  as  to  its  name :  the  practice,  which  is  set  forth  by 
thy  conditions,  there  are  but  few  that  can  abide. 

Mer.  Well,  said  Mercy,  if  nobody  will  have  me,  I 
will  die  unmarried,  or  my  conditions 
shall  be  to  me  as  a  husband ;  for  I  can¬ 
not  change  my  nature :  and  to  have  one  who  lies  cross 
to  me  in  this,  that  I  purpose  never  to  admit  of  as  long 

How  Mercy’s  sis-  as  I  live.  I  had  a  sister  named  Bounti- 
ter  was  served  by  fui}  that  was  married  to  one  of  these 

*cr  ms  au  '  churls,  but  he  and  she  could  never 
agree ;  but  because  my  sister  was  resolved  to  do  as  she 
had  begun,  that  is,  to  show  kindness  to  the  poor,  there¬ 
fore  her  husband  first  cried  her  down  at  the  cross,  and 
then  turned  her  out  of  his  doors. 

Prud.  And  yet  he  was  a  professor,  I  warrant  yen'? 

Mer.  Yes,  such  a  one  as  he  was,  and  of  such  as  he 
the  world  is  now  full :  but  I  am  for  none  of  them  all. 

Now  Matthew,  the  eldest  son  of  Christiana,  fell  sick, 
„  ,  ,  „  .  ,  and  his  sickness  was  sore  upon  him,  for 

he  was  much  pained  m  his  bowels,  so 
that  he  was  with  it  at  times  pulled,  as  it  were,  both 
ends  together.  There  dwelt  also  not  far  from  thence 
one  Mr.  Skill,  an  ancient  and  well-approved  physician. 
So  Christiana  desired  it,  and  they  sent  for  him,  and  he 
came.  When  he  was  entered  the  room,  and  had  a  lit- 
Gripes  of  con-  tie  observed  the  boy,  he  concluded  that 
he  was  sick  of  the  gripes.  Then  he  said 
to  his  mother,  What  diet  has  Matthew  of  late  fed  upon  ? 
Diet !  said  Christiana,  nothing  but  what  is  wholesome. 
The  physician  answered,  This  boy  has  been  tampering 

The  physician’s  with  something  that  lies  in  his  stomach 
judgment.  undigested,  and  that  will  not  away  with¬ 

out  means.  And  I  tell  you  he  must  be  purged,  or  else 
he  will  die. 


science. 


MATTHEW  FALLS  SICK. — THE  GRIPES.  277 

Sam.  Then  said  Samuel,  Mother,  what  was  that  which 
my  brother  did  gather  and  eat  as  soon  Samuel  puts  his 
*s  we  were  come  from  the  gate  that  is  mother  ,in  mind  of 

the  bead  of  this  way  ?  You  know  that  ther  did  eat!*  br°* 
tnere  was  an  orchard  on  the  left  hand,  on  the  other 
«ide  of  the  wall,  and  some  of  the  trees  hung  over  the 
wall,  and  my  brother  did  pluck  and  eat. 

Chr.  True,  my  child,  said  Christiana,  he  did  take 
thereof  and  did  eat :  naughty  boy  as  he  was,  I  chid 
him,  and  yet  he  would  eat  thereof. 

Skill.  I  knew  he  had  eaten  something  that  was  not 
wholesome  food ;  and  that  food,  to  wit,  that  fruit,  is 
even  the  most  hurtful  of  all.  It  is  fruit  of  Beelzebub’s 
orchard.  I  do  marvel  that  none  did  warn  you  of  it  • 
many  have  died  thereof. 

Chr.  Then  Christiana  began  to  cry;  and  she  said, 
Oh,  naughty  boy !  and  Oh,  careless  mother !  what  shall 
I  do  for  my  son  ? 

Skill.  Come,  do  not  be  too  much  dejected ;  the  boy 
may  do  well  again,  but  he  must  purge  and  vomit. 

Chr.  Pray,  sir,  try  the  utmost  of  your  skill  with  him 
whatever  it  costs. 

Skill.  Nay,  I  hope  I  shall  be  reasonable.  So  he 
made  him  a  purge,  but  it  was  too  weak ;  it  was  said  it 
was  made  of  the  blood  of  a  goat,  the  ashes  of  a  heifer, 
and  some  of  the  juice  of  hyssop,  Ileb.  9  : 13}  19-  10  • 
l~4*  When  Mr.  Skill  had  seen  that  that  purge'  was 
too  weak,  he  made  him  one  to  the  purpose.  It  was 
made  ex  came  et  sanguine  Cliristi*  John  ThpT  ,•  ,, 

6  :  54 — 57 ;  Heb.  9:14;  (you  know  phy  _  row. 
sicians  give  stiange  medicines  to  their  patients;)  and 
it  was  unde  into  pills,  with  a  promise  or  two,  and  a 


*  Of  the  flesh  and  blood  of  Christ. 

24 


278  THE  POWERFUL  MEDICINE  MR.  SKILL  GIVES  HIM* 


proportionable  quantity  of  salt,  Mark  9  :  49.  Now  he 
was  to  take  them  three  at  a  time,  fasting,  in  half  a 
quarter  of  a  pint  of  the  tears  of  repentance,  Zech.  12 :  10. 

When  this  potion  was  prepared,  and  brought  to  the 
The  boy  loth  to  boy,  he  was  loth  to  take  it,  though  torn 
take  the  physic.  w[th  the  gripes  as  if  he  should  be  pulled 
in  pieces.  Come,  come,  said  the  physician,  you  must 
take  it.  It  goes  against  my  stomach,  said  the  boy.  1 
must  have  you  take  it,  said  his  mother.  I  shall  vomil 
it  up  again,  said  the  boy.  Tray,  sir,  said  Christiana  to 
Mr.  Skill,  how  does  it  taste?  It  has  no  ill  taste,  said 
the  doctor;  and  with  that  she  touched 
it  and  persuades  one  of  the  pills  with  the  tip  of  hei  tongue. 
him*  Oh,  Matthew,  said  she,  this  potion  is 

sweeter  than  honey.  If  thou  lovest  thy  mother,  if 
thou  lovest  thy  brothers,  if  thou  lovest  Mercy,  if  thou 
lovest  thy  life,  take  it.  So  with  much  ado,  after  a 
short  prayer  for  the  blessing  of  God  upon  it,  he  took 
it,  and  it  wrought  kindly  with  him.  It  caused  him  to 
purge;  it  caused  him  to  sleep  and  rest  quietly;  it  put 


him  into  a  fine  heat  and  breathing  sweat,  and  did  quite 
a  word  of  God  in  rid  him  of  his  gripes.  So  in  a  little  time 
the  hand  of  faith.  pe  g0t  Up}  and  walked  about  with  a  staff, 

and  would  go  from  room  to  room,  and  talked  with 
Prudence,  Piety,  and  Charity,  of  his  distemper,  and 
how  he  was  healed. 

So  when  the  boy  was  healed,  Christiana  asked  Mr. 
Skill,  saying,  Sir,  what  will  content  you  for  your  pains 
and  care  to  and  of  my  child  ?  And  he  said,  \  ou  must 
pay  the  Master  of  the  College  of  Physicians,  Heb. 
13  :  11 — 15;  according  to  rules  made  in  that  case  and 
provided. 

Chr.  But,  sir,  said  she,  what  is  this  pill  good  for  else? 
Skill.  It  is  a  universal  pill ;  it  is  good  against  all 


MATTHEW  RESTORED. — THE  UNIVERSAL  PILL.  279 


diseases  that  pilgrims  are  incident  toj  Thepiu  a  univer. 
and  when  it  is  well  prepared  it  will  keep  sal  reme(|y 
good,  time  out  of  mind. 

Chr.  Pray,  sir,  make  me  up  twelve  boxes  of  them ; 
for  if  1  can  get  these,  I  will  never  take  other  physic. 

Skill.  These  pills  are  good  to  prevent  diseases,  as 
well  as  to  cure  when  one  is  sick.  Yea,  I  dare  say  it, 
and  stand  to  it,  that  if  a  man  will  but  use  this  physic 
as  he  should,  it  will  make  him  live  for  ever,  John, 
6  :  58.  But  good  Christiana,  thou  must  give  these  pills 
no  other  way  than  as  I  have  prescribed ;  for  if  you  do, 
they  will  do  no  good.  So  he  gave  unto  Christiana 
physic  for  herself,  and  her  boys,  and  for  Mercy :  and 
bid  Matthew  take  heed  how  he  ate  any  more  green 
plumbs,  and  kissed  them,  and  went  his  way. 

It  was  told  you  before,  that  Prudence  bid  the  boys, 
if  at  any  time  they  would,  they  should  ask  her  some 
questions  that  might  be  profitable,  and  she  would  say 
something  to  them. 

Matt.  Then  Matthew,  who  had  been  sick,  asked 
her,  why  for  the  most  part  physic 
should  be  bitter  to  our  palates.  °f  physic* 

Prud.  To  show  how  unwelcome  the  word  of  God 
and  the  effects  thereof  are  to  a  carnal  heart. 

Matt.  Why  does  physic,  if  it  does  good,  purge,  and 
cause  to  vomit? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  word,  when  it  works  effec 
tually,  cleanseth  the  heart  and  mind.  For  look,  what 
the  one  doth  to  the  body,  the  other  doth  to  the  soul. 

Matt.  What  should  we  learn  by  seeing  the  flame 
of  our  fire  go  upward,  and  by  seeing  or  fire,  a„d  „fth. 
the  beams  and  sweet  influences  of  the  SUM* 
sun  strike  downward  ? 

Prud.  By  the  going  up  of  the  fire  we  are  taught  to 


280  TALK  OF  PRUDENCE  AND  MATTHEW. 


ascend  to  heaven  by  fervent  and  hot  desires.  And  by 
the  sun  sending  his  heat,  beams,  and  sweet  influences 
downward,  we  are  taught  that  the  Savior  of  the  world, 
though  high,  reacheth  down  with  his  grace  and  love 
to  us  below. 


Of  the  clouds. 


Of  the  rainbow. 


Matt.  Where  have  the  clouds  their 
water  ? 

Prud.  Out  of  the  sea. 

Matt.  What  may  we  learn  from  that  ? 

Prud.  That  ministers  should  fetch  their  doctrine 
from  God. 

Matt.  Why  do  they  empty  themselves  upon  the 
earth  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  ministers  should  give  out  what 
they  know  of  God  to  the  world. 

Matt.  Wliy  is  the  rainbow  caused  by 
the  sun  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  covenant  of  God’s  grace  is 
confirmed  to  us  in  Christ. 

Matt.  Why  do  the  springs  come  from 
the  sea  to  us  through  the  earih  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  grace  of  God  comes  to  us 
through  the  body  of  Christ. 

Matt.  Why  do  some  of  the  springs  rise  out  of  the 
tops  of  high  hills? 

Prud.  To  show  that  the  spirit  of  grace  shall  spring 
up  in  some  that  are  great  and  mighty,  as  well  as  in 
many  that  are  poor  and  low. 

,  „  Matt.  Why  doth  the  fire  fasten  upon 

Of  the  candle.  ,  .  .  r 

the  candle-wick  ? 

Prud.  To  show  that  unless  grace  doth  kindle  upor 
the  heart,  there  will  be  no  true  light  of  life  in  us. 

Matt.  Why  are  the  wick,  and  tallow  and  all,  spent 
to  maintain  the  light  of  the  candle  ? 


Of  the  springs. 


PETITION  SENT  FOR  GREAT-HEART. 


281 


Prud.  To  show  that  body  and  soul,  and  all,  should 
be  at  the  service  of,  and  spend  themselves  to  maintain 
in  good  condition,  that  grace  of  God  that  is  in  us. 

Matt.  Why  doth  the  pelican  pierce 
her  own  breast  with  her  bill  ?  0f  the  pellcaiK 


Prud.  To  nourish  her  young  ones  with  her  blood, 
and  thereby  to  show  that  Christ  the  blessed  so  loveth 
his  young,  (his  people,)  as  to  save  them  from  death 
by  his  blood. 


Matt.  What  may  one  learn  by  hear¬ 
ing  the  cock  to  crow  ? 


Prud.  Learn  to  remember  Peter’s  sin,  and  Peter’s 
repentance.  The  cock’s  crowing  shows  also,  that  day 
is  coming  on :  let,  then,  the  crowing  of  the  cock  put 
thee  in  mind  of  that  last  and  terrible  day  of  judgment. 

Now  about  this  time  their  month  was  out ;  where¬ 
fore  they  signified  to  those  of  the  house,  that  ’twas 
convenient  for  them  to  up  and  be  going.  Then  said 
Joseph  to  his  mother,  It  is  proper  that  you  forget  not 
to  send  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Interpreter,  to  pray  him  to 
grant  that  Mr.  Great-Heart  should  be  _ 

The  weak  may 

sent  unto  us,  that  he  may  be  our  con-  sometimes  call  the 
ductor  the  rest  of  our  way.  Good  boy,  Btrong t0  layers, 
said  she,  I  had  almost  forgot.  So  she  drew  up  a  peti¬ 
tion,  and  prayed  Mr.  Watchful  the  porter  to  send  it  by 
some  fit  man  to  her  good  friend  Mr.  Interpreter;  who, 
when  it  was  come,  and  he  had  seen  the  contents  of  the 
petition,  said  to  the  messenger,  Go,  tell  them  that  I  will 
send  him. 

When  the  family  where  Christiana  was  saw  that 

they  had  a  purpose  to  go  forward,  they  They  provide  to  be 
called  the  whole  house  together,  to  give  s°ne  on  their  way- 
thanks  to  their  King  for  sending  of  them  such  profit¬ 
able  guests  as  these.  Which  done,  they  said  unto 

24* 


282  THE  SIGHTS  SHOWN  TO  THE  PILGRIMS. 

Christiana,  And  shall  we  not  show  thee  something  as 
our  custom  is  to  do  to  pilgrims,  on  which  thou  mayest 
meditate  when  thou  art  upon  the  way?  So  they  took 
Christiana,  her  children,  and  Mercy,  into  the  closet, 
and  showed  them  one  of  the  apples  that 

Eves  apple.  -^ve  ate  0f?  and  that  which  she  also  did 

give  to  her  husband,  and  that  for  the  eating  of  which 
they  were  both  turned  out  of  paradise,  and  asked  her 
what  she  thought  that  was.  Then  Christiana  said,  It 
is  food  or  poison,  I  know  not  which.  So  they  opened 
the  matter  to  her,  and  she  held  up  her  hands  and  won¬ 
dered,  Gen.  3:6;  Rom.  7 :  24. 

Then  they  had  her  to  a  place  and  showed  her  Jacob’s 
.  ,  , ,  ladder,  Gen.  28  :  12.  Now  at  that  time 

there  were  some  angels  ascending  upon 
it.  So  Christiana  looked  and  looked  to  see  the  angels 
go  up ;  so  did  the  rest  of  the  company.  Then  they 
were  going  into  another  place,  to  show  them  some¬ 
thing  else;  but  James  said  to  his  mother,  Pray  bid 
a  sight  of  Christ  them  stay  here  a  little  longer,  for  this  is 
is  taking.  a  curious  sight.  So  they  turned  again, 

and  stood  feeding  their  eyes  with  this  so  pleasing  a 
prospect,  John,  1  :  15. 

After  this  they  had  them  into  a  place  where  did 
...  ,  hang  up  a  golden  anchor.  So  they  bid 

Christiana  take  it  down ;  for,  said  they, 
You  shall  have  it  with  you,  for  it  is  of  absolute  neces¬ 
sity,  that  you  may  lay  hold  of  that  within  the  veil, 
Heb.  6  :  19;  and  stand  steadfast  in  case  you  should 
meet  with  turbulent  weather,  Joel,  3  :  16;  so  they  were 
glad  thereof. 

Then  they  took  them,  and  had  them  to  the  mount 
Of  Abraham  >ffer-  upon  which  Abraham  our  father  offered 
in*  up  Isaac. Up  isaac  his  son,  and  showed  them  the 


MR.  GREAT-HEART  COMES  AGAIN.  283 

altar,  the  wood,  the  fire,  and  the  knife,  for  they  remain 
to  be  seen  to  this  very  day,  Gen.  22  :  9.  When  they 
had  seen  it,  they  held  lip  their  hands,  and  blessed  them¬ 
selves,  and  said,  Oh  !  what  a  man  for  love  to  his  Mas¬ 
ter,  and  for  denial  to  himself,  was  Abraham  ! 

After  they  had  showed  them  all  these  things,  Pru¬ 
dence  took  into  a  dining-room,  where  Prudenc’0,s  vir. 
stood  a  pair  of  excellent  virginals;*  so  einals- 
she  played  upon  them,  and  turned  what  she  had 
showed  them  into  this  excellent  song,  saying, 

Eve’s  apple  we  have  showed  you; 

Of  that  be  you  aware  : 

You  have  seen  Jacob’s  ladder  too. 

Upon  which  angels  are. 

An  anchor  you  received  have; 

But  let  not  these  suffice, 

Until  with  Abra’m  you  have  gave 
Your  best  a  sacrifice. 

Now  about  this  time  one  knocked  at  the  door  So 
the  Porter  opened,  and  behold,  Mr.  Mr.Grea,-Hem 
Great-Heart  was  there:  but  when  he  comes again, 
was  come  in,  what  joy  was  there !  For  it  came  now 
afresh  again  into  their  minds  how  but  a  little  while 
ago  he  had  slain  old  Grim  Bloody-man,  the  giant,  and 
had  delivered  them  from  the  lions. 

Then  said  Mr.  Great-Heart  to  Christiana  and  to 
Mercy,  My  Lord  has  sent  each  of  you  a 
bottle  of  wine,  and  also  some  parched  from  his^rd  with 
corn,  together  with  a  couple  of  pome-  him' 
granates .  he  has  also  sent  the  boys  some  figs  and 
raisins,  to  refresh  you  in  your  way. 

Then  they  addressed  themselves  to  their  journey, 
and  Prudence  and  Piety  went  along  with  them.  When 
they  came  to  the  gate,  Christiana  asked  the  Porter  if 

!  it  4 

*  A  musical  instrument  for  young  women. 


284  THE  PILGRIMS  GO  ON  THEIR  JOURNEY. 

any  of  late  went  by.  He  said,  No ;  only  one  some 
time  since,  who  also  told  me,  that  of  late  theie  had 
been  a  great  robbery  committed  on  the  King  s  high¬ 
way  as  you  go.  But,  said  he,  the  thieves  are  taken, 
and  will  shortly  be  tried  for  their  lives.  Then  Chris¬ 
tiana  and  Mercy  were  afraid  ;  but  Matthew  said,  Mo¬ 
ther,  fear  nothing  as  long  as  Mr.  Great-Heart  is  to  go 
with  us,  and  to  be  our  conductor. 

Then  said  Christiana  to  the  Porter,  Sir,  I  am  much 
obliged  to  you  for  all  the  kindnesses  that 
her  leave  of  the  you  have  showed  me  since  I  came  hither ; 
Portnr'  and  also  for  that  you  have  been  so  lov¬ 

ing  and  kind  to  my  children.  I  know  not  how  to  gratify 
your  kindness  5  wherefore,  pray,  as  a  token  of  my  le- 
spect  to  you,  accept  of  this  small  mite.  So  she  put  a  gold 
an^el*  in  his  hand ;  and  he  made  her  low  obeisance,  and 

The  Porter's  bless-  said,  u  Let  thy  garments  be  always 
ing.  white;  and  let  thy  head  want  no  oint¬ 

ment,”  Eccles.  9  :  8.  Let  Mercy  live  and  not  die,  and 
let  not  her  works  be  few,  Deut.  33  :  6.  And  to  the  boys 
he  said,  Do  you  fly  youthful  lusts,  and  follow  after  god¬ 
liness  with  them  that  are  grave  and  wise,  2  Tim.  2  :  22 ; 
so  shall  you  put  gladness  into  your  mother’s  heart, 
and  obtain  praise  of  all  that  are  sober-minded.  So  they 
thanked  the  Porter,  and  departed. 

Now  I  saw  in  my  dream  that  they  went  forward 
until  they  were  come  to  the  brow  of  the  hill;  where 
Piety  bethinking  herself,  cried  out,  Alas !  I  have  forgot 
what  I  intended  to  bestow  upon  Christiana  and  her 
companions:  I  will  go  back  and  fetch  it.  So  she  ran 
and  fe  \  hed  it.  While  she  was  gone  Christiana  thought 


*  A  golr  angel  was  a  coin  of  the  value  of  ten  shillings  sterling,  and  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  comparative  value  of  money  in  Bunyan’s  time,  equal  at 
least  to  a  g  tinea  at  the  present  time. 


THE  BIRDS  SINGING. — PIETY^S  PRESENT.  285 

she  heard  in  a  grove  a  little  way  off  on  the  right  hand, 
a  most  curious  melodious  note,  with  words  much  like 
these : 

Through  all  my  life  thy  favor  is 
So  frankly  show’d  to  me, 

That  in  thy  house  for  ever  more 
My  dwelling-place  shall  he. 

And  listening  still,  she  thought  she  heard  another 
answer  it,  saying, 

For  why  1  The  Lord  our  God  is  good ; 

His  mercy  is  for  ever  sure  ; 

His  truth  at  all  times  firmly  stood, 

And  shall  from  age  to  age  endure. 

So  Christiana  asked  Prudence  who  it  was  that  made 
those  curious  notes,  Song  2:  11, 12.  They  are,  an¬ 
swered  she,  our  country  birds :  they  sing  these  notes 
but  seldom,  except  it  be  at  the  spring,  when  the  flow¬ 
ers  appear,  and  the  sun  shines  warm,  and  then  you 
may  hear  them  all  day  long.  I  often,  said  she,  go 
out  to  hear  them;  wTe  also  ofttimes  keep  them  tame 
in  our  house.  They  are  very  fine  company  for  us 
when  we  are  melancholy  :  also  they  make  the  woods, 
and  groves,  and  solitary  places,  desirous  to  be  in. 

By  this  time  Piety  was  come  again.  So  she  said  to 
Christiana,  Look  here,  I  have  brought  Pjety  bcstow  th 
thee  a  scheme  of  all  those  things  that  something  on  them 
thou  hast  seen  at  our  house,  upon  which  atpartlD^ 

Uiou  mayest  look  when  thou  findest  thyself  forgetful, 
and  call  those  things  again  to  remembrance  for  thy 
edification  and  comfort. 

Now  they  began  to  go  down  the  hill  into  the  Valley 
of  Humiliation.  It  was  a  steep  hill,  and  the  way  was 
slippery  ;  but  they  were  very  careful ;  so  they  got 
down  pretty  well.  When  they  were  down  in  the  val- 


286 


THE  VALLEY  OF  HUMILIATION. 


ley  Piety  said  to  Christiana,  This  is  the  place  where 
Christian,  your  husband,  met  with  that  foul  fiend 
Apollyon,  and  where  they  had  that  dreadful  fight 
that  they  h'ad :  I  know  you  cannot  but  have  heard 
thereof.  But  be  of  good  courage ;  as  long  as  you 
have  here  Mr.  Great-heart  to  be  your  guide  and  con¬ 
ductor,  we  hope  you  will  fare  the  better.  So  when 
these  two  had  committed  the  pilgrims  unto  the  con¬ 
duct  of  their  guide,  he  went  forward,  and  they  went 
after. 

Great.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  We  need  not  be 

Mr.  Great-heart  S°  afraid  °f  thiS  ValleF>  for  here  is  nO- 

at  the  Valley  of  thing  to  hurt  us,  unless  we  procure  it  to 
Humiliation.  ourselves.  It  is  true  that  Christian  here 

did  meet  with  Apollyon,  with  whom  lie  had  also  a 
sore  combat :  but  that  fray  was  the  fruit  of  those  slips 
which  he  got  in  his  going  down  the  hill ;  for  they  that 
get  slips  there,  must  look  for  combats  here.  And 
hence  it  is,  that  this  valley  has  got  so  hard  a  name. 
For  the  common  people,  when  they  hear  that  some 
frightful  thing  has  befallen  such  a  one  in  such  a  place, 
are  of  opinion  that  that  place  is  haunted  with  some 
foul  fiend  or  evil  spirit ;  when,  alas !  it  is  for  the  fruit 
of  their  own  doings  that  such  things  do  befall  them 

The  reason  why  there.  This  Valley  of  Humiliation  is  of 

Win^heTaiiey  itself  as  fruitful  a  place  as  any  the 
of  Humiliation.  crow  flies  over ;  and  I  am  persuaded,  if 
we  could  hit  upon  it,  we  might  find  somewhere  here¬ 
about  something  that  might  give  us  an  account  why 
Christian  was  so  hardly  beset  in  this  place. 

Then  James  said  to  his  mother,  Lo,  yonder  stands 
a  pillar,  and  it  looks  as  if  something  was  written 
thereon  ;  let  us  go  and  see  what  it  is.  So  they  went, 
and  found  there  written,  “  Let  Christian’s  slips  before 


THE  VALLEY  OF  HUMILIATION. 


287 


he  came  hither,  and  the  battles  that  he  A  pUlar  with  M 
met  with  in  this  place,  be  a  warning  to  inscription  on  it. 
those  that  come  after.”  Lo,  said  their  guide,  did  not  I 
tell  you  that  there  was  something  hereabouts  that 
would  give  intimation  of  the  reason  why  Christian 
was  so  hard  beset  in  this  place  ?  Then  turning  him¬ 
self  to  Christiana,  he  said,  No  disparagement  to  Chris¬ 
tian  more  than  to  many  others  whose  hap  and  lot  it 
was.  For  it  is  easier  going  up  than  down  this  hill, 
and  that  can  be  said  but  of  few  hills  in  all  these 
parts  of  the  world.  But  we  will  leave  the  good  man  ; 
he  is  at  rest :  he  also  had  a  brave  victory  over  his  ene¬ 
my.  Let  Him  grant,  that  dwelleth  above,  that  we  fare 
no  worse,  when  we  come  to  be  tried,  than  he. 

But  we  will  come  again  to  this  Valley  of  Humilia¬ 
tion.  It  is  the  best  and  most  fruitful  This  valley  a 
piece  of  ground  in  all  these  parts.  It  brave  P,ace- 
is  fat  ground,  and  as  you  see,  consisteth  much  in  mea¬ 
dows  ;  and  if  a  man  was  to  come  here  in  summer¬ 
time,  as  we  do  now,  if  he  knew  not  any  thing  before 
thereof,  and  if  he  also  delighted  himself  in  the  sight  of 
his  eyes,  he  might  see  that  which  would  be  delightful 
to  him.  Behold  how  green  this  valley  is;  also  how 
beautified  with  lilies,  Song,  2:1.  I  have  also  known 
many  laboring  men  that  have  got  good  estates  in  this 
Valley  of  Humiliation ;  for  God  resisteth  the  proud, 
but  giveth  grace  to  the  humble,  James, 

4 :  6;  1  Pet.  5:  5.  Indeed  it  is  a  very  v.”'yof  1Xmii£! 
fruitful  soil,  and  doth  bring  forth  by  tion' 
handfuls.  Some  also  have  wished  that  the  next  way 
to  their  Father’s  house  were  here,  that  they  might  be 
troubled  no  more  with  either  hills  or  mountains  to  go 
over  ;  but  the  way  is  the  way,  and  there’s  an  end. 

Now  as  they  were  going  along  and  talking,  thev 


288 


THE  SHEPHERD’S  BOY  SINGING. 


espied  a  boy  feeding  his  father’s  sheep.  The  boy  was 
in  very  mean  clothes,  but  of  a  fresh  and  well-favored 
countenance  ;  and  as  he  sat  by  himself  he  sung.  Hark, 
said  Mr.  Great-heart,  to  what  the  shepherd’s  boy  saith. 
So  they  hearkened,  and  he  said, 

Ho  that  is  down,  needs  fear  no  fall 
He  that  is  low,  no  pride : 

He  that  is  humble,  ever  shall 
Have  God  to  be  his  guide. 

% 

I  am  content  with  what  I  have, 

Little  be  it  or  much ; 

And,  Lord,  contentment  still  1  crave, 

Because  thousavesl  such. 

Fulness  to  such  a  burden  is, 

That  go  on  pilgrimage  ; 

Here  little,  and  hereafter  bliss. 

Is  best  from  age  to  age. 

Then  said  their  guide,  Do  )mu  hear  him  ?  I  will 
dare  to  say  this  boy  lives  a  merrier  life,  and  wears 
more  of  that  herb  called  heart’s-ease  in  his  bosom, 
than  he  that  is  clad  in  silk  and  velvet.  But  we  will 
proceed  in  our  discourse. 

In  this  valley  our  Lord  formerly  had  his  country- 

Christ  when  in  the  h°USe  1  he  IoVed  mUCh  t0  be  her<“-  He 

flesh  had  his  coun-  loved  also  to  walk  these  meadows,  for 
Valley  ofHumiiia-  he  found  the  air  was  pleasant.  Besides 
Uon*  here  a  man  shall  be  free  from  the  noise, 

and  from  the  hurryings  of  this  life  :  all  states  are  full 
of  noise  and  confusion ;  only  the  Valley  of  Humilia¬ 
tion  is  that  empty  and  solitary  place.  Here  a  man 
shall  not  be  so  let  and  hindered  in  his  contemplation 
as  in  other  places  he  is  apt  to  be.  This  is  a  valley 
that  nobody  walks  in  but  those  that  love  a  pilgrim’s 
life.  And  though  Christian  had  the  hard  hap  to  meet 
here  with  Apollyon,  and  to  enter  with  him  into  a  brisk 


FORGETFUL  GREEN. 


289 


encounter,  yet  I  must  tell  you,  that  in  former  times 
men  have  met  with  angels  here,  Hos.  12:  4,  5;  have 
found  pearls  here,  Matt.  13:  46;  and  have  in  this 
place  found  the  words  of  life,  Prov.  8:  35. 

Did  I  say  our  Lord  had  here  in  former  days  his 
country-house,  and  that  he  loved  here  to  walk?  I 
will  add :— in  this  place,  and  to  the  people  that  love 
and  tiace  these  grounds,  he  has  left  a  yearly  revenue, 
to  be  faithfully  paid  them  at  certain  seasons,  for  their 
maintenance  by  the  way,  and  for  their  further  en¬ 
couragement  to  go  on  in  their  pilgrimage. 

Sam.  Now  as  they  went  on,  Samuel  said  to  Mr. 
Great-heart,  Sir,  I  perceive  that  in  this  valley  my  fa¬ 
ther  and  Apollyon  had  their  battle;  but  whereabout 
was  the  fight  ?  for  I  perceive  this  valley  is  large. 

Great.  Your  father  had  the  battle  with  Apollyon  at 
a  place  yonder  before  us,  in  a  narrow 
passage,  just  beyond  Forgetful  Green.  Forgetful  Gree“* 
And  indeed  that  place  is  the  most  dangerous  place  in 
all  these  parts.  For  if  at  any  time  pilgrims  meet 
with  any  brunt,  it  is  when  they,  forget  what  favors 
they  have  received,  and  how  unworthy  they  are  of 
them.  This  is  the  place  also  where  others  have  been 
hard  put  to  it.  But  more  of  the  place  when  we  are 
come  to  it  ;  for  I  persuade  myself,  that  to  this  day 
there  remains  either  some  sign  of  the  battle,  or  some 

monument  to  testify  that  such  a  battle  there  was 
fought. 


Mek.  Then  said  Mercy,  I  think  I  am  as  well  in  this 

valley  as  I  have  been  any  where  else  in  u  -v* 
n  J  in  Humility  a  sweet 

all  our  journey:  the  place,  methlnks,  grace* 
suits  with  my  spirit.  I  love  to  be  in  such  places, 
wheie  theie  is  no  rattling  with  coaches,  nor  rumbling 
with  wheels.  Methinks,  here  one  may,  without  much 

25 


290  THE  PLACE  WHERE  CHRISTIAN  FOUGHT. 

molestation,  be  thinking  what  he  is,  whence  lie  came, 
what  he  ha^  done,  and  to  what  the  King  has  called 
him.  Here  one  may  think,  and  break  at  heart,  and 
melt  in  one’s  spirit,  until  one’s  eyes  become  as  the 
fish  pools  in  Heshbon,  Song,  7  :  4.  They  that  go  right¬ 
ly  through  this  valley  of  Baca,  make  it  a  well ;  the 
rain  that  God  sends  down  from  heaven  upon  them 
that  are  here,  also  filleth  the  pools.  This  valley  is 
that  from  whence  also  the  King  will  give  to  his  their 
vineyards,  and  they  that  go  through  it  shall  sing,  as 
Christian  did  for  all  he  met  with  Apollyon,  Psalm  84  : 
5 — 7 ;  Hos.  2:  15. 

Great.  ’Tis  true,  said  their  guide ;  I  have  gone 

An  experiment  through  this  valley  many  a  time,  and 
upon  lt'  never  was  better  than  when  here.  I 

have  also  been  a  cqnductor  to  several  pilgrims,  and 
they  have  confessed  the  same.  “  To  this  man  will  I 
look,”  saith  the  King,  “  even  to  him  that  is  poor  and 
of  a  contrite  spirit,  and  trembleth  at  my  word,”  Isa. 
66 :  2. 

Now  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  the  afore¬ 
mentioned  battle  was  fought.  Then  said  the  guide  to 
Christiana,  her  children,  and  Mercy,  This  is  the  place ; 

The  place  where  011  this  ground  Christian  stood,  and 
Christian  and  the  up  there  came  Apollyon  against  him. 

And,  look,  did  not  I  tell  you  ?  here  is 
some  of  your  husband’s  blood  upon  these  stones  to 
this  day.  Behold,  also,  how  here  and  there  are  yet 
to  be  seen  upon  the  place  some  of  the  shivers  of  Apol- 
lyon’s  broken  darts.  See  also  how  they  did  beat  the 
1  Some  signs  of  ground  with  their  feet  as  they  fought, 

the  battle  remain.  to  make  g00(J  thejr  pjaces  against  each 

other;  how  also  with  their  by-blows  they  did  split  the 
very  stones  in  pieces.  Verily,  Christian  did  here  play 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH.  291 

the  man,  and  showed  himself  as  stout  as  Hercules 
could,  had  he  been  here,  even  he  himself.  When 
Apollyon  was  beat,  he  made  his  retreat  to  the  next 
valley,  that  is  called  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death,  unto  which  we  shall  come  anon.  Lo,  yonder 
also  stands  a  monument  on  which  is  en-  A  momlnlent  of 
graven  this  battle,  and  Christian’s  victo-  Christian’s  victory, 
ry,  to  his  fame  throughout  all  ages.  So  because  it 
stood  just  on  the  way-side  before  them,  they  stepped 
to  it,  and  read  the  writing,  which  word  for  word  was 
this  : 

Hard  by  here  was  a  battle  fought. 

Most  strange,  and  yet  most  true  ; 

Christian  and  Apollyon  sought 
Each  other  to  subdue. 

The  man  so  bravely  play’d  the  man. 

He  made  the  fiend  to  fly ; 

Of  which  a  monument  I  stand, 

The  same  to  testify. 


When  they  had  passed  by  this  place  they  came 
upon  the  borders  of  the  Shadow  of  Death.  This 
valley  was  longer  than  the  other ;  a  place  also  most 
strangely  haunted  with  evil  things,  as  many  are 
able  to  testify :  but  these  women  and  children  went 


the  better  through  it,  because  they  had  daylight,  and 
because  Mr.  Great-heart  was  their  conductor. 

When  they  were  entered  upon  this  valley,  they 
thought  that  they  heard  a  groaning  as 
of  dying  men  ;  a  very  great  groaning.  Groanings  hearcL 
1  hev  thought  also  that  they  did  hear  words  of  lamen¬ 
tation,  spoken  as  of  some  in  extreme  torment.  These 
things  made  the  boys  to  quake;  the  women  also 
looked  pale  and  wan;  but  their  guide  bid  them  be  of 
good  comfort. 


292  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH. 


So  they  went  on  a  little  further,  and  they  thought 
that  they  felt  the  ground  begin  to  shake 

The  ground  shakes.  ^  as  some  hollow  place 

was  there :  they  heard  also  a  kind  of  hissing,  as  of 
serpents,  but  nothing  as  yet  appeared.  Then  said  the 
boys,  Are  we  not  yet  at  the  end  of  this  doleful  place ? 


But  the  guide  also  bid  them  be  of  good  courage,  and 
look  well  to  their  feet;  lest  haply,  said  he,  you  be 
taken  in  some  snare. 

Now  James  began  to  be  sick  ;  but  I  think  the  cause 

James  sick  with  hereof  was  fear :  so  his  mother  gave 
fear.  him  so  me  of  that  glass  of  spirits  that 

had  been  given  her  at  the  Interpreter’s  house,  and 
three  of  the  pills  that  Mr.  Skill  had  prepared,  and  the 
boy  began  to  revive.  Thus  they  went  on  till  they 
came  to  about  the  middle  of  the  valley  ;  and  then 
Christiana  said.  Methinks  I  see  something  yonder 
upon  the  road  before  us,  a  thing  of  such 
The  fieud  appear.  &  sjiape  as  j  ]iave  not  seen.  Then  said 

Joseph,  Mother,  what  is  it?  An  ugly  thing,  child ;  an 
ugly  thing,  said  she.  But,  mother,  what  was  it  like  ? 
said  he.  ’Tis  like  I  cannot  tell  what,  said  she ;  and 

The  pilgrims  are  now  it  is  but  a  little  way  off.  Then 

afraid.  said  she,  It  is  nigh. 

Well,  well,  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  let  them  that  are 
Great  heart  en-  most  afraid  keep  close  to  me.  feo  the 
courages  them.  fiend  came  on,  and  the  conductor  met 

it ;  but  when  it  was  just  come  to  him  it  vanished  to 
all  their  sights.  Then  remembered  they  what  had 
been  said  some  time  ago,  “  Resist  the  devil,  and  he 
will  flee  from  you,”  James,  4:  7. 

They  went  therefore  on,  as  being  a  little  refreshed. 
But  they  had  not  gone  far  before  Mercy,  looking  be¬ 
hind  her,  saw,  as  she  thought,  something  most  like  a 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH.  293 

lion,  and  it  came  a  great  padding  ^ 
pace  after;  and  it  had  a  hollow  voice 
of  roaring  ;  and  at  every  roar  that  it  gave,  it  made  all 
the  valley  echo,  and  all  their  hearts  to  ache,  save  the 
heart  of  him  that  was  their  guide.  So  it  came  up, 
and  Mr.  Great-heart  went  behind,  and  put  the  pil¬ 
grims  all  before  him.  The  lion  also  came  on  apace, 
and  Mr.  Great-heart  addressed  himself  to  give  him 
battle,  1  Pet.  5 :  8,  9.  But  when  he  saw  that  it  was 
determined  that  resistance  should  be  made,  he  also 
drew  back,  and  came  no  further. 

Then  they  went  on  again,  and  their  conductor 
went  before  them,  till  they  came  to  a  place  where  was 
cast  up  a  pit  the  whole  breadth  of  the  .  .  , ,  , 

.  ,  .  .  .  .  ,  _  A  pit  and  darkness. 

way ;  and  before  they  could  be  prepared 
to  go  over  that,  a  great  mist  and  a  darkness  fell  upon 
them,  so  that  they  could  not  see.  Then  said  the  pil¬ 
grims,  Alas!  what  now  shall  we  do?  But  their  guide 
made  answer,  Fear  not,  stand  still,  and  see  what  an  end 
will  be  put  to  this  also  :  so  they  stayed  there,  because 
their  path  was  marred.  They  then  also  thought  that 
they  did  hear  more  apparently  the  noise  and  rush¬ 
ing  of  the  enemies ;  the  fire  also,  and  smoke  of  the 
pit,  were  much  easier  to  be  discerned.  Then  said 
Christiana  to  Mercy,  Now  I  see  what  Christiana  now 
my  poor  husband  went  through.  I  ^hat  her 

have  heard  much  of  this  place,  but  I 
never  was  here  before  now.  Poor  man  !  he  went  here 
all  alone  in  the  night;  he  had  night  almost  quite 
through  the  way ;  also  these  fiends  were  busy  about 
him,  as  if  they  would  have  torn  him  in  pieces.  Many 
have  spoken  of  it ;  but  none  can  tell  what  the  Valley 
of  the  Shadow  of  Death  should  mean  until  they  come 
in  it  themselves.  The  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitter- 

25* 


294 


THEY  PRAY  IN  THE  VALLEY. 


ness ;  and  a  stranger  intermeddleth  not  with  its  joy, 
Prov.  14  :  10.  To  be  here  is  a  fearful  thing. 

Great.  This  is  like  doing  business  in  great  waters, 
or  like  going  down  into  the  deep.  This  is  like  being 
in  the  heart  of  the  sea,  and  like  going  down  to  the 
bottoms  of  the  mountains.  Now  it  seems  as  if  the 
earth,  with  its  bars,  were  about  us  for  ever.  But  let 
them  that  walk  in  darkness  and  have  no  light,  trust 
in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and  stay  upon  their  God,  Isa. 
50:  10.  For  my  part,  as  I  have  told  you  already,  1 
have  gone  often  through  this  valley,  and  have  been 
much  harder  put  to  it  than  now  I  am  :  and  yet  you 
see  I  am  alive.  I  would  not  boast,  for  that  I  am  not 
my  own  savior ;  but  I  trust  we  shall  have  a  good  de¬ 
liverance.  Come,  let  us  pray  for  light  to  Him  that 
can  lighten  our  darkness,  and  that  can  rebuke  not 
only  these,  but  all  the  satans  in  hell. 

So  they  cried  and  prayed,  and  God  sent  light  and 
deliverance,  for  there  was  now  no  let 
in  their  way  :  no,  not  there,  where  but  They  pra>‘ 
now  they  were  stopped  with  a  pit.  Yet  they  were  not 
got  through  the  valley.  So  they  went  on  still,  and  met 
with  great  stinks  and  loathsome  smells,  to  the  great 
annoyance  of  them.  Then  said  Mercy  to  Christiana, 
It  is  not  so  pleasant  being  here  as  at  the  gate,  or  at  the 
Interpreter’s,  or  at  the  house  where  we  lay  last. 

O  but,  said  one  of  the  boys,  it  is  not  so  bad  to  go 
through  here  as  it  is  to  abide,  here  al-  one  of  the  boys 
ways;  and  for  aught  I  know,  one  rea-  rePly- 
son  why  we  must  go  this  way  to  the  house  prepared 
for  us  is,  that  our  home  might  be  made  the  sweeter 
to  us. 

Well  said,  Samuel,  quoth  the  guide  ;  thou  hast  now 
syoken  like  a  man.  Why,  if  ever  I  get  out  here 


GIANT  MAUL. 


295 


Again,  said  the  boy,  I  think  I  shall  prize  light  and 
good  way  better  than  I  ever  did  in  all  my  life.  Then 
said  the  guide,  We  shall  be  out  by  and  by. 

So  they  went,  and  Joseph  said,  Cannot  we  see  to 
the  end  of  this  valley  as  yet  ?  Then  said  the  guide, 
Look  to  your  feet,  for  we  shall  presently  be  among  the 
snares  :  so  they  looked  to  their  feet,  and  went  on  ;  but 
they  were  troubled  much  with  the  snares.  Now  when 
they  were  come  among  the  snares  they  espied  a  man 
cast  into  the  ditch  on  the  left  hand,  with  his  flesh  all 
rent  and  torn.  Then  said  the  guide,  XT  ... 
that  is  one  Heedless,  that  was  going  this  and  Take-heed 
way:  he  has  lain  there  a  great  while.  1>ie!>erved- 
There  was  one  Take-heed  with  him  when  he  was 
taken  and  slain;  but  he  escaped  their  hands.  You 
cannot  imagine  how  many  are  killed  hereabouts,  and 
yet  men  are  so  foolishly  venturous  as  to  set  out  lightly 
on  pilgrimage,  and  to  come  without  a  guide.  Poor 
Christian!  It  was  a  wonder  that  he  here  escaped; 
but  he  was.  beloved  of  his  God :  also  he  had  a  good 
heart  of  his  own,  or  else  he  could  never  have  done  it. 

Now  they  drew  toward  the  end  of  this  way ;  and 
mst  where  Christian  had  seen  the  cave  when  he  went 
!>y,  out  thence  came  forth  Maul,  a  giant.  ,* 

1  Ills  Maul  did  use  to  spoil  young  pil-  quarrels  with 
grims  with  sophistry ;  and  he  called  Great'heart- 
Great-heart  by  his  name,  and  said  unto  him,  How 
many  times  have  you  been  forbidden  to  do  these 
things?  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  What  things? 
What  things?  quoth  the  giant;  you  know  what 
things:  but  I  will  put  an  end  to  your  trade. 

But  pray,  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  before  we  fall  to  it, 
let  us  understand  wherefore  we  must  fight.  Now  the 
women  and  children  stood  trembling,  and  knew  not 


296 


BATTLE  WITH  GIANT  MAUL. 


what  to  do.  Quoth  the  giant,  You  rob  the  country, 
and  rob  it  with  the  worst  of  thefts.  These  are  but 
generals,  said  Mr.  Great-heart;  come  to  particulars, 
man. 

Then  said  the  giant,  Thou  practisest  the  craft  of 

God’s  ministers  a  kidnapper;  thou  gatherest  up  women 
counted  as  kidnap-  and  children,  and  carriest  them  into  a 

pers.  ' 

strange  country,  to  the  weakening  of 
my  master’s  kingdom.  But  now  Great-heart  replied, 
I  am  a  servant  of  the  God  of  heaven  ;  my  business  is 
to  persuade  sinners  to  repentance.  I  am  commanded 
to  do  my  endeavor  to  turn  men,  women,  and  chil- 

The  giant  and  dren>  from  darkness  to  light,  and  from 
Mr.  Great-heart  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God;  and  if 

must  fight.  r  ’ 

this  be  indeed  the  ground  of  thy  quar¬ 
rel,  let  us  fall  to  it  as  soon  as  thou  wilt. 

Then  the  giant  came  up,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  went 
to  meet  him ;  and  as  he  went  he  drew  his  sword,  but 
the  giant  had  a  club.  So  without  more  ado  they 
fell  to  it,  and  at  the  first  blow  the  Giant  struck  Mr. 

Weak  folks’  Great-heart  down  upon  one  of  his 
prayers  at  some  knees.  With  that  the  women  and 
folks’’ cii^. &tro,,g  Children  cried  out.  So  Mr.  Great- 
heart  recovering  himself,  laid  about 
him  in  full  lusty  manner,  and  gave  the  giant  a  wound 
in  his  arm.  Thus  he  fought  for  the  space  of  an  hour, 
to  that  height  of  heat,  that  the  breath  came  out  of 
the  giant’s  nostrils  as  the  heat  doth  out  of  a  boiling 
cauldron. 

Then  they  sat  down  to  rest  them  ;  but  Mr.  Great- 
heart  betook  himself  to  prayer.  Also  the  women  and 
children  did  nothing  but  sigh  and  cry  all  the  time 
that  the  battle  did  last. 

When  they  had  rested  them,  and  taken  breath,  they 


THE  GIANT  SLAIN  BY  GREAT-HEART.  297 

both  fell  to  it  again,  and  Mr.  Great-heart,  with  a  blow, 
fetched  the  giant  down  to  the  ground.  The  giant  struck 
Nay,  hold,  let  me  recover,  quoth  he.  do'vn* 

So  Mr.  Great-heart  fairly  let  him  get  up  ;  so  to  it  they 
went  again  ;  and  the  giant  missed  but  little  of  all  to 
breaking  Mr.  Great-heart’s  scull  with  his  club. 

Mr.  Great-heart  seeing  that  runs,  to  him  in  the  full 
heat  of  his  spirit,  and  pierceth  him  under  the  fifth  rib. 
With  that  the  giant  began  to  faint,  and  „e  Uski„,and  hia 
could  hold  up  his  club  no  longer.  heacl  disP°sed  of. 
Then  Mr.  Great-heart  seconded  his  blow,  and  smote 
the  head  of  the  giant  from  his  shoulders.  Then 
the  women  and  children  rejoiced,  and  Mr.  Great- 
heart  also  praised  God  for  the  deliverance  he  had 
wrought. 

When  this  was  done,  they  amongst  them  erected 
a  pillar,  and  fastened  the  giant’s  head  thereon,  and 
wrote  under  it  in  letters  that  passengers  might  read: 

He  that  did  wear  this  head  was  one 
That  pilgrims  did  misuse  ; 

He  stopt  their  way,  he  spared  none, 

But  did  them  all  abuse 

Until  that  I,  Great-heart,  arose, 

The  pilgrim’s  guide  to  be  ; 

Until  that  I  did  him  oppose 
That  was  their  enemy. 

Now  I  saw  that  they  went  on  to  the  ascent  that  was 
a  little  way  off,  cast  up  to  be  a  prospect  for  pilgrims. 
That  was  the  place  from  whence  Christian  had  the 
first  sight  of  Faithful  his  brother.  Wherefore,  here 
they  sat  down  and  rested.  They  also  here  did  eat 
and  drink,  and  make  merry,  for  that  they  had  gotten 
deliverance  from  this  so  dangerous  an  enemy.  As  they 
sat  thus  and  did  eat,  Christiana  asked  the  guide  if  he 
had  caught  no  hurt  in  the  battle.  Then  said  Mr. 


298 


DISCOURSE  OF  THE  FIGHT. 


Great-heart,  No,  save  a  little  on  my  flesh ;  yet  that 
also  shall  be  so  far  from  being  to  my  detriment,  that 
it  is  at  present  a  proof  of  my  love  to  my  Master  and 
you,  and  shall  be  a  means,  by  grace,  to  increase  my 
reward  at  last. 

Chr.  But  were  you  not  afraid,  good  sir,  when  you 
saw  him  come  with  his  club  ? 

Great.  It  is  my  duty,  said  he,  to  mistrust  my  own 
Discourse  of  the  ability,  that  I  may  have  reliance  on  Him 
fisht-  who  is  stronger  than  all. 

Chr.  But  what  did  you  think  when  he  fetched  you 
down  to  the  ground  at  the  first  blow  ? 

Great.  Why,  I  thought,  replied  he,  that  so  my 
Master  himself  was  served,  and  yet  he  it  was  that 
conquered  at  last,  2  Cor.  4  :  10,  11;  Rom.  8 :  37. 

Matt.  When  you  all  have  thought  what  you  please, 
,  .1  think  God  has  been  wonderful  good 

mires  God’s  good-  unto  us,  both  in  bringing  us  out  of  this 
valley,  and  in  delivering  us  out  of  the 
hand  of  this  enemy.  For  my  part,  I  see  no  reason 
why  wre  should  distrust  our  God  any  more,  since  he 
has  now,  and  in  such  place  as  this,  given  us  such  tes¬ 
timony  of  his  love.  Then  they  got  up,  and  went 
forward. 

Now  a  little  before  them  stood  an  oak,  and  under  it, 
when  they  came  to  it,  they  found  an  old  pilgrim  fast 
Old  Honest  asleep  asleep.  They  knew  that  he  was  a  pil- 
under  an  oak.  grim,  by  his  clothes,  and  his  staff,  and 
his  girdle. 

So  the  guide,  Mr.  Great-heart,  awaked  him  ;  and  the 
old  gentleman,  as  he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  cried  out, 
What’s  the  matter  ?  who  are  you  ?  and  what  is  your 
business  here? 

Great.  Come,  man, be  not  so  hot;  here  are  none 


THE  PILGRIMS  MEET  OLD  HONEST. 


299 


but  friends.  Yet  tlie  old  man  gets  up,  ~ 

j  ,  0  One  stunt  some* 

and  stands  upon  Ins  guard,  and  will  times  takes  ano- 
know  of  them  what  they  are.  Then  said  tl,er  for  his  euelll*v- 
the  guide,  My  name  is  Great-heart :  I  am  the  guide  of 
these  pilgrims  that  are  going  to  the  celestial  country. 

Hon.  1  hen  said  Mr.  Honest,  I  cry  you  mercy  i  I 
feared  that  you  had  been  of  the  com  pa-  Tlllk  betwcell 
ny  of  those  that  some  time  ago  did  rob  Great-heart  and  he. 
Little-faith  of  his  money;  but,  now  I  look  better 
about  me,  I  perceive  you  are  honester  people. 

Great.  Why,  what  would  or  could  you  have 
done  to  have  helped  yourself,  if  indeed  we  had  been 
of  that  company  ? 


Hon.  Done  ?  Why,  I  would  have  fought  as  long  as 
breath  had  been  in  me  ;  and  had  I  so  done,  I  am  sure 
you  could  never  have  given  me  the  worst  on;t ;  for  a 
Christian  can  never  be  overcome  unless  he  shall  yield 
of  himself. 

Great.  Well  said,  old  pilgrim,  quoth  the  guide  ; 
for  by  this  I  know  thou  art  a  cock  of  the  right  kind' 
for  thou  hast  said  the  truth. 


Hon.  And  by  this  also  I  know  that  thou  knowest 
what  true  pilgrimage  is;  for  all  others  think  that  we 
are  the  soonest  overcome  of  an}7. 

Great.  Well,  now  we  are  so  happily  met,  pray  let 
me  crave  your  name,  and  the  name  of  the  place  you 
came  from. 

Hon.  My  name  I  cannot  tell  you  ;  but  I  came 
from  the  town  of  Stupidity:  it  lieth  whence Mr.Ho- 
about  four  degrees  beyond  the  city  of  nest  came. 
Destruction. 

Great.  Oh?  Are  you  that  countryman?  Then  I 
deem  1  have  half  a  guess  of  you ;  your  name  is  old 
Honesty,  is  it  not  ? 


300 


DISCOURSE  WITH  OLD  HONEST. 


Hon.  So  the  old  gentleman  blushed,  and  said,  Not 
Honesty  in  the  abstract,  but  Honest  is  my  name j  and 
I  wish  that  my  nature  may  agree  to  what  I  am  called. 
But,  sir,  said  the  old  gentleman,  how  could  you  guess 
that  I  am  such  a  man,  since  I  came  from  such  a  place  ? 

Great.  I  had  heard  of  you  before  by  my  Master, 
0<  for  he  knows  all  things  that  are  done 

worse  than  those  on  the  earth.  But  I  have  often  won- 
meieiy  carnal.  jerec|  that  any  should  come  from  your 

place :  for  your  town  is  worse  than  is  the  city  of 
Destruction  itself. 

Hon.  Yes,  we  lie  more  off  from  the  sun,  and  so  are 
more  cold  and  senseless.  But  were  a  man  in  a  moun¬ 
tain  of  ice,  yet  if  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  should 
arise  upon  him,  his  frozen  heart  shall  feel  a  thaw ; 
and  thus  it  has  been  with  me. 

Great.  I  believe  it,  father  Honest,  I  believe  it ;  for  I 
know  the  thing  is  true. 

Then  the  old  gentleman  saluted  all  the  pilgrims  with 
a  holy  kiss  of  charity,  and  asked  them  their  names, 
and  how  they  had  fared  since  they  set  out  on  their 
pilgrimage. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christiana,  My  name  I  suppose 
you  have  heard  of ;  good  Christian  was  my  husband, 
and  these  four  are  his  children.  But  can  you  think 
how  the  old  gentleman  was  taken  when  she  told  him 
who  she  was  ?  He  skipped,  he  smiled,  he  blessed  them 
with  a  thousand  good  wishes,  saying: 

IIon.  I  have  heard  much  of  your  husband,  and  of 
his  travels  and  wars  which  he  underwent  in  his  days. 
Be  it  spoken  to  your  comfort,  the  name  of  your  hus¬ 
band  rings  all  over  these  parts  of  the  world  :  his  faith, 
his  courage,  his  enduring,  and  his  sincerity  under  all, 
have  made  his  name  famous.  Then  he  turned  him  to 


OLD  HONEST  BLESSES  THE  PILGRIMS.  301 

the  boys,  and  asked  them  of  their  names,  which  they 
told  him.  Then  said  he  unto  them,  Matthew,  be  thou 
like  Matthew  the  publican,  not  in  vice,  0id  Mr.  Honest’s 
but  in  virtue,  Matt.  10 :  3.  Samuel,  said  blessi»g  them, 
he,  be  thou  like  Samuel  the  prophet,  a  man  of  faith 
and  prayer,  Psalm  99  :  6.  Joseph,  said  he,  be  thou  like 
Joseph  in  Potiphar’s  house,  chaste,  and  one  that  flees 
from  temptation,  Gen.  39.  And,  James,  be  thou  like 
James  the  just,  and  like  James  the  brother  of  our  Lord, 
Acts,  1 :  13.  Then  they  told  him  of  Mercy,  and  how  she 
had  left  her  town  and  her  kindred  to  come  along  with 
Christiana,  and  with  her  sons.  At  that 
the  old  honest  man  said,  Mercy  is  thy  HeblesmhMercy' 
name :  by  mercy  shalt  thou  be  sustained  and  carried 
through  all  those  difficulties  that  shall  assault  thee  in 
thy  way,  till  thou  shalt  come  thither  where  thou 
shalt  look  the  Fountain  of  mercy  in  the  face  with 
comfort.  All  this  while  the  guide,  Mr.  Great-heart, 
was  very  well  pleased,  and  smiled  upon  his  com¬ 
panion. 

Now,  as  they  walked  along  together,  the  guide  asked 
the  old  gentleman,  if  he  did  not  know  Taik  of  one  Mr. 
one  Mr.  Fearing,  that  came  on  pilgrim-  Faring, 
age  out  of  his  parts. 

Hon.  Yes,  very  well,  said  he.  He  was  a  man  that 
had  the  root  of  the  matter  in  him  :  but  he  was  one  of 
the  most  troublesome  pilgrims  that  ever  I  met  with  in 
all  my  days. 

Great.  I  perceive  you  knew  him,  for  you  have 
given  a  very  right  character  of  him. 

Hon.  Knew  him  !  I  was  a  great  companion  of  his; 

I  was  with  him  most  an  end  ;  when  lie  first  began  to 
think  upon  what  would  come  upon  us  hereafter,  I 
was  with  him. 


26 


302  TALK  ABOUT  MR.  FEARINGj  THE  PILGRIM. 

Great.  I  was  his  guide  from  my  Master’s  house  to 
the  gates  of  the  celestial  city. 

Hon.  Then  you  knew  him  to  be  a  troublesome  one. 

Great.  I  did  so  ;  but  I  could  very  well  bear  it ;  for 
men  of  my  calling  are  oftentimes  entrusted  with  the 
conduct  of  such  as  he  was. 

Hon.  Well  then,  pray  let  us  hear  a  little  of  him,  and 
how  he  managed  himself  under  your  conduct. 

Great.  Why,  he  was  always  afraid  that  he  should 
come  short  of  whither  he  had  a  desire 

Mr.  Pearing’s 

troublesome  pii-  to  go.  Every  thing  frightened  him  that 
grimage.  he  ^eard  any  body  speak  of,  if  it  had  but 

the  least  appearance  of  opposition  in  it.  I  have  heard 
u  .  .  that  he  lay  roaring  at  the  Slough  of 

His  behavior  at  *  °  ° 

the  siough  of  Des-  Despond  for  above  a  month  together ; 
pond‘  nor  durst  he,  for  all  he  saw  several  go 

over  before  him,  venture,  though  they  many  of  them  of¬ 
fered  to  lend  him  their  hands.  He  would  not  go  back 
again  neither.  The  celestial  city — he  said  he  should  die 
if  he  came  not  to  it ;  and  yet  he  was  dejected  at  every 
difficulty,  and  stumbled  at  every  straw  that  any  body 
cast  in  his  way.  Well,  after  he  had  lain  at  the  Slough 
of  Despond  a  great  while,  as  I  have  told  you,  one  sun¬ 
shiny  morning,  I  don’t  know  how,  he  ventured,  and 
so  got  over ;  but  when  he  was  over,  he  would  scarcely 
believe  it.  He  had,  I  think,  a  Slough  of  Despond  in 
his  mind,  a  slough  that  he  carried  every  where  with 
him,  or  else  he  could  never  have  been  as  he  was.  So 
he  came  up  to  the  gate,  you  know  what  I  mean,  that 
stands  at  the  head  of  this  way,  and  there  also  he 

iiis  behavior  at  stood  a  good  while  before  he  would 
the  gate.  venture  to  knock.  When  the  gate  was 

opened,  he  would  give  back,  and  give  place  to  others, 
and  say  that  he  was  not  worthy.  For,  for  all  he  got 


TALK  ABOUT  MR.  FEARING,  THE  PILGRIM.  303 

before  some  to  the  gate,  yet  many  of  them  went  in 
before  him.  There  the  poor  man  would  stand  shak 
ing  and  shrinking;  I  dare  say  it  would  have  pitied 
one’s  heart  to  have  seen  him.  Nor  would  he  go  back 
again.  At  last  he  took  the  hammer  that  hanged  on  the 
gate,  in  his  hand,  and  gave  a  small  rap  or  two ;  then 
one  opened  to  him,  but  he  shrunk  back  as  before.  He 
that  opened,  stepped  out  after  him,  and  said,  Thou 
trembling  one,  what  wantest  thou  ?  With  that  he  fell 
down  to  the  ground.  He  that  spoke  to  him  wondered 
to  see  him  so  faint,  so  he  said  to  him,  Peace  be  to  thee ; 
up,  for  I  have  set  open  the  door  to  thee ;  come  in,  for 
thou  art  blessed.  With  that  he  got  up,  and  went  in 
trembling ;  and  when  he  was  in,  he  was  ashamed  to 
show  his  face.  Well,  after  he  had  been  entertained 
there  awhile,  as  you  know  how  the  manner  is,  he  was 
bid  go  on  his  way,  and  also  told  the  way  he  should 
take.  So  he  went  on  till  he  came  to  our  house ;  but 
as  he  behaved  himself  at  the  gate,  so  he  did  at  my 
Master  the  Interpreter’s  door.  He  lay  His  behavior  at  tho 
there  about  in  the  cold  a  good  while,  I,lterPreter’s  door, 
before  he  would  adventure  to  call ;  yet  he  would 
not  go  back:  and  the  nights  were  long  and  cold 
then.  Nay,  he  had  a  note  of  necessity  in  his  bosom 
to  my  Master  to  receive  him,  and  grant  him  the  com¬ 
fort  of  his  house,  and  also  to  allow  him  a  stout  and 
valiant  conductor,  because  he  was  himself  so  chicken- 
hearted  a  man  ;  and  yet  for  all  that  he  was  afraid  to 
call  at  the  door.  So  he  lay  up  and  down  thereabouts, 
till,  poor  man,  he  was  almost  starved ;  yea,  so  great 
was  his  dejection,  that  though  he  saw  several  others 
for  knocking  get  in,  yet  he  was  afraid  to  venture.  At 
last,  I  think  I  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  per¬ 
ceiving  a  man  to  be  up  and  down  about  the  door,  I 


304  TALK  ABOUT  MR.  FEARING,  THE  PILGRIM. 


went  out  to  him,  and  asked  what  he  was ;  but,  poor 
man,  the  water  stood  in  his  eyes  ;  so  I  perceived  what 
he  wanted.  I  went  therefore  in,  and  told  it  in  the 
house,  and  we  showed  the  thing  to  our  Lord :  so  he 
sent  me  out  again,  to  entreat  him  to  come  in ;  but  I 
dare  say,  I  had  hard  work  to  do  it.  At  last  he  came  in ; 

How  he  was  en-  and  I  will  say  that  for  my  Lord,  he  car- 
tertained  there.  ried  jt  wonderfully  lovingly  to  him. 

There  were  but  a  few  good  bits  at  the  table  but  some 
of  it  was  laid  upon  his  trencher.  Then  he  presented 
the  note ;  and  my  Lord  looked  thereon,  and  said  his 
desire  should  be  granted.  So  when  he  had  been  there 
a  good  while,  he  seemed  to  get  some  heart,  and  to 
„  .  be  a  little  more  comforted.  For  my 

eouraged  at  the  in-  Master,  you  must  know,  is  one  of  very 
terpreter  s  house.  jen(jer  bowels,  especially  to  them  that 

are  afraid ;  wherefore  he  carried  it  so  toward  him  as 
might  tend  most  to  his  encouragement.  Well,  when 
he  had  had  a  sight  of  the  things  of  the  place,  and 
was  ready  to  take  his  journey  to  go  to  the  city, 
my  Lord,  as  he  did  to  Christian  before,  gave  him 
a  bottle  of  spirts,  and  some  comfortable  things  to 
eat.  Thus  we  set  forward,  and  I  went  before  him  ; 
but  the  man  was  but  of  few  words,  only  he  would 
sigh  aloud. 

When  we  were  come  to  the  place  where  the  three 

He  was  greatly  fellows  were  hanged,  he  said  that  he 
afraid  when  he  saw  doubted  that  that  would  be  his  end  also. 

cheery 'bwhen  he  Only  he  seemed  glad  when  he  saw  the 
saw  the  cross.  Cross  and  the  Sepulchre.  There  I  con¬ 
fess  he  desired  to  stay  a  little  to  look;  and  he  seemed 
for  a  while  after  to  be  a  little  cheery.  When  he  came 
to  the  hill  Difficulty,  he  made  no  stick  at  that,  nor  did 
he  much  fear  th6  lions :  for  you  must  know  that  his 


TALK  ABOUT  MR.  FEARING,  THE  PILGRIM.  305 

troubles  were  not  about  such  things  as  these  3  his  fear 
was  about  his  acceptance  at  last. 

I  got  him  in  at  the  house  Beautiful,  I  think  before  he 
was  willing.  Also  when  he  was  in,  I  brought  him  ac¬ 
quainted  with  the  damsels  of  the  place  3  but  he  was 
ashamed  to  make  himself  much  in  company.  He  de¬ 
sired  much  to  be  alone ;  yet  he  always  Dumpish  at  the 
loved  good  talk,  and  often  would  get  house  Beautiful- 
behind  the  skreen  to  hear  it.  He  also  loved  much  to 
see  ancient  things,  and  to  be  pondering  them  in  his 
mind.  He  told  me  afterward,  that  he  loved  to  be  in 
those  two  houses  from  which  he  came  last,  to  wit,  at 
the  gate,  and  that  of  the  Interpreter,  but  that  he  durst 
not  be  so  bold  as  to  ask. 

When  we  went  also  from  the  house  Beautiful,  down 
the  hill,  into  the  Valley  of  Humiliation, 

,  j  n  T  Pleasant  in  the 

he  went  down  as  well  as  ever  I  saw  a  Valley  of  Humiiia- 

man  in  my  life ;  for  he  cared  not  how  tl0u* 
mean  he  was,  so  he  might  be  happy  at  last.  Yea,  I 
think  there  was  a  kind  of  sympathy  betwixt  that  val¬ 
ley  and  him ;  for  I  never  saw  him  better  in  all  his  pil¬ 
grimage  than  he  was  in  that  valley. 

Here  he  would  lie  down,  embrace  the  ground,  and 
kiss  the  very  flowers  that  grew  in  this  valley,  Lam.  3  : 
27 — 29.  He  would  now  be  up  every  morning  by  break 
of  day,  tracing  and  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  valley. 

But  when  he  was  come  to  the  entrance  of  the  Val¬ 
ley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  I  thought  I  „  , 
should  have  lost  my  man:  not  for  that  the  Valley  of  the 
he  had  any  inclination  to  go  back  3  that  Shadow  of  Death- 
he  always  abhorred;  but  he  was  ready  to  die  for  fear. 
Oh,  the  hobgoblins  will  have  me !  the  hobgoblins  will 
have  me  !  cried  he ;  and  I  could  not  beat  him  out  of  it. 
He  made  such  a  noise,  and  such  an  outcrv  here,  that 

26* 


306  TALK  ABOUT  MR.  FEARING,  THE  PILGRIM. 

had  they  blit  heard  him,  it  was  enough  to  encourage 
them  to  come  and  fall  upon  us. 

But  this  I  took  very  great  notice  of,  that  this  valley 
was  as  quiet  when  we  went  through  it  as  ever  I  knew 
it  before  or  since.  I  suppose  those  enemies  here  had 
now  a  special  check  from  our  Lord,  and  a  command 
not  to  meddle  until  Mr.  Fearing  had  passed  over  it. 

It  would  be  too  tedious  to  tell  you  of  all :  we  will 
therefore  only  mention  a  passage  or  two  more.  When 

His  behavior  at  he  was  come  to  Vanity  Fair,  I  thought 
Vanity  Fair.  pe  wou \&  have  fought  with  all  the  men 

in  the  fair.  I  feared  there  we  should  have  been  both 
knocked  on  the  head,  so  hot  was  he  against  their  fool¬ 
eries.  Upon  the  Enchanted  Ground  he  was  very  wake¬ 
ful.  But  when  he  was  come  at  the  river  where  was  no 
bridge,  there  again  he  was  in  a  heavy  case.  Now, 
now,  he  said,  he  should  be  drowned  for  ever,  and  so 
never  see  that  face  with  comfort  that  he  had  come  so 
many  miles  to  behold. 

And  here  also  I  took  notice  of  what  was  very  re¬ 
markable:  the  water  of  that  river  was  lower  at  this 
time  than  ever  I  saw  it  in  all  my  life;  so  he  went  over 
at  last,  not  much  above  wetshod.  When  he  was  going 

His  boldness  at  up  to  the  gate  I  began  to  take  leave  of 
last-  him,  and  to  wish  him  a  good  reception 

above.  So  he  said,  I  shall,  I  shall.  Then  parted  we 
asunder,  and  I  saw  him  no  more. 

Hon.  Then  it  seems  he  was  well  at  last? 

Great.  Yes,  yes,  I  never  had  a  doubt  about  him. 
He  was  a  man  of  a  choice  spirit,  only  he  was  always 
kept  very  low,  and  that  made  his  life  so  burdensome 
to  himself,  and  so  troublesome  to  others,  Psalm  88. 
lie  was  above  many,  tender  of  sin :  he  was  so  afraid 
of  doing  injuries  to  others,  that  ho  often  would  deny 


TALK  ABOUT  MR.  FEARING,  THE  PILGRIM.  307 


himself  of  that  which  was  lawful,  because  he  would 
not  offend,  Rom.  14  :  21 ;  1  Cor.  8  :  13. 


Hon.  But  what  should  be  the  reason  that  such  a 
good  man  should  be  all  his  days  so  much  in  the  dark  ? 

Great.  There  are  two  sorts  of  reasons  for  it.  One 
is,  the  wise  God  will  have  it  so :  some 
must  pipe,  and  some  must  weep,  Matt,  men8 aie 
11  :  16.  Now  Mr.  Fearing  was  one  that  dark- 
played  upon  the  bass.  He  and  his  fellows  sound  the 
sackbut,  whose  notes  are  more  doleful  than  the  notes 


of  other  music  are :  though  indeed,  some  say,  the  bass 
is  the  ground  of  music.  And  for  my  part,  I  care  not 
at  all  for  that  profession  which  begins  not  in  heaviness 
of  mind.  The  first  string  that  the  musician  usually 
touches  is  the  bass,  wffien  he  intends  to  put  all  in  tune. 
God  also  plays  upon  this  string  first,  when  he  sets  the 
soul  in  tune  for  himself.  Only  there  was  the  imper¬ 
fection  of  Mr.  Fearing ;  he  could  play  upon  no  other 
music  but  this,  till  toward  his  latter  end. 

[I  make  bold  to  talk  thus  metaphorically  for  the  ri¬ 
pening  of  the  wits  of  young  readers,  and  because,  in 
the  book  of  the  Revelation,  the  saved  are  compared  to 
a  company  of  musicians  that  play  upon  their  trum¬ 
pets  and  harps,  and  sing  their  songs  before  the  throne, 
Rev.  5  :  8 ;  14  :  2,  3."] 

Hon.  He  was  a  very  zealous  man,  as  one  may  see 
by  the  relation  which  you  have  given  of  him.  Diffi¬ 
culties,  lions,  or  Vanity  Fair,  he  feared  not  at  all;  it 
was  only  sin,  death,  and  hell,  that  were  to  him  a  terror, 
because  he  had  some  doubts  about  his  interest  in  that 
celestial  country. 

Great.  You  say  right;  those  were  the  things  that 
were  his  troublers:  and  they,  as  you 
have  well  observed,  arose  from  the  A  close  about  h,m' 


308  TALK  ABOUT  MR.  FEARING,  THE  PILGRIM. 

weakness  of  his  mind  thereabout,  not  from  weakness 
of  spirit  as  to  the  practical  part  of  a  pilgrim's  life.  I 
dare  believe  that,  as  the  proverb  is,  he  could  have  bit  a 
firebrand,  had  it  stood  in  his  way ;  but  the  things  with 
which  he  was  oppressed,  no  man  ever  yet  could  shake 
off  with  ease. 

Chr.  Then  said  Christiana,  This  relation  of  Mr. 
Christiana’s  sen-  Fearing  has  done  me  good:  I  thought 
tence>  nobody  had  been  like  me.  But  I  see 

there  was  some  semblance  betwixt  this  good  man  and 
me :  only  we  differed  in  two  things.  His  troubles  were 
so  great  that  they  broke  out;  but  mine  I  kept  within. 
His  also  lay  hard  upon  him,  they  made  him  that  he 
could  not  knock  at  the  houses  provided  for  entertain¬ 
ment  ;  but  my  trouble  was  always  such  as  made  me 
knock  the  louder. 

Mer.  If  I  might  also  speak  my  heart,  I  must  say 

Mercy’s  sentence.  that  SOmethi"S  a™™  has  also  dwelt  in 
me.  For  I  have  ever  been  more  afraid 
of  the  lake,  and  the  loss  of  a  place  in  paradise,  than  I 
have  been  of  the  loss  of  other  things.  O,  thought  I, 
may  I  have  the  happiness  to  have  a  habitation  there ! 
5Tis  enough,  though  I  part  with  all  the  world  to  win  it. 
Matt.  Then  said  Matthew,  Fear  was  one  thing  that 
Matthew’s  sen-  made  me  think  that  I  was  far  from 
tence>  having  that  within  me  which  accompa¬ 

nies  salvation.  But  if  it  was  so  with  such  a  good  man 
as  he,  why  may  it  not  also  go  well  with  me  ? 

James.  No  fears,  no  grace,  said  James.  Though 

James’s  sentence.  ‘S  "0t  alWayS  Z™Ce  Where  there 

is  the  fear  of  hell ;  yet,  to  be  sure,  there 
is  no  grace  where  there  is  no  fear  of  God. 

Great.  Well  said,  James,  thou  hast  hit  the  mark. 
For  the  fear  of  God  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom  ;  and 


TALK  ABOUT  SELF-WILL. 


to  be  sure,  they  that  want  the  beginning  have  neither 
middle  nor  end.  But  we  will  here  conclude  our  dis¬ 
course  of  Mr.  Fearing,  after  we  have  sent  after  him 
this  farewell. 

Well,  Master  Fearing,  thou  didst  fear 
Thy  God,  and  wast  afraid 

Of  doing  any  thing,  while  here, 

That  would  have  thee  betrayed. 

And  didst  thou  fear  the  lake  and  pit  ? 

Would  others  do  so  too! 

For,  as  for  them  that  want  thy  wit, 

They  do  themselves  undo. 


Now  I  saw  that  they  still  went  on  in  their  talk.  For 
after  Mr.  Great-heart  had  made  an  end  with  Mr.  Fear¬ 
ing,  Mr.  Honest  began  to  tell  them  of  another,  but  his 
name  was  Mr.  Self-will.  He  pretended 
himself  to  be  a  pilgrim,  said  Mr.  Honest;  °f  Mr*  Self'wl11' 
but  I  persuade  myself  he  never  came  in  at  the  gate  that 
stands  at  the  head  of  the  way. 

Great.  Had  you  ever  any  talk  with  him  about  it? 

Hon.  Yes,  more  than  once  or  twice;  but  he  would 
always  be  like  himself,  self-willed.  He  oid  Honest  had 
neither  cared  for  man,  nor  argument,  talked  with  Wm. 
nor  yet  example;  what  his  mind  prompted  him  to, 
that  he  would  do,  and  nothing  else  could  he  be  got 
to  do. 

Great.  Pray  what  principles  did  he  hold  ?  for  I  sup¬ 
pose  you  can  tell. 

Hon.  He  held  that  a  man  might  follow  the  vices  as 
well  as  the  virtues  of  pilgrims ;  and  that  •  Self-will's  opi- 
if  he  did  both,  he  should  be  certainly  nions- 
saved. 

Great.  How?  If  he  had  said,  it  is  possible  for  the 
best  to  be  guilty  of  the  vices,  as  well  as  to  partake  of 
the  virtues  of  pilgrims,  he  could  not  much  have  been 


310 


TALK  OF  SELF-WILL. 


blamed ;  for  indeed  we  are  exempted  from  no  vice  ab¬ 
solutely,  but  on  condition  that  we  watch  and  strive. 
But  this  I  perceive  is  not  the  thing ;  but  if  I  understand 
you  right,  your  meaning  is,  that  he  was  of  opinion 
that  it  was  allowable  so  to  be. 

Hon.  Ay,  ay,  so  I  mean,  and  so  he  believed  and 
practised. 

Great.  But  what  grounds  had  he  for  his  so  saying  ? 

Hon.  Why,  lie  said  he  had  the  Scripture  for  his 
warrant. 

Great.  Prithee,  Mr.  Honest,  present  us  with  a  few 
particulars. 

Hon.  So  I  will.  He  said,  to  have  to  do  with  other 
men’s  wives  had  been  practised  by  David,  God’s  be¬ 
loved  ;  and  therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said,  to  have 
more  women  than  one  was  a  thing  that  Solomon  prac¬ 
tised,  and  therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said,  that  Sarah 
and  the  godly  midwives  of  Egypt  lied,  and  so  did  saved 
Rahab,  and  therefore  he  could  do  it.  He  said,  that  the 
disciples  went  at  the  bidding  of  their  Master,  and  took 
away  the  owner’s  ass,  and  therefore  he  could  do  so  too. 
He  said,  that  Jacob  got  the  inheritance  of  his  father 
in  a  way  of  guile  and  dissimulation,  and  therefore  he 
could  do  so  too. 

Great.  High  base  indeed  !  And  are  you  sure  he  was 
of  this  opinion  ? 

Hon.  I  have  heard  him  plead  for  it,  bring  Scripture 
for  it,  bring  arguments  for  it,  &c. 

Great.  An  opinion  that  is  not  fit  to  be  with  any  al¬ 
lowance  in  the  world ! 

Hon.  You  must  understand  me  rightly:  he  did  not 
say  that  any  man  might  do  this ;  but  that  they  who 
had  the  virtues  of  those  that  did  such  things,  might 
also  do  the  same. 


TALK  OF  3ELF-WILL. 


311 


Great.  But  what  more  false  than  such  a  conclu 
sion  ?  For  this  is  as  much  as  to  say,  that  because 
good  men  heretofore  have  sinned  of  infirmity,  there¬ 
fore  he  had  allowance  to  do  it  of  a  presumptuous  mind ; 
or  that  if,  because  a  child,  by  the  blast  of  the  wind,  or 
for  that  it  stumbled  at  a  stone,  fell  down  and  defiled 
itself  in  the  mire,  therefore  he  might  wilfully  lie  down 
and  wallow  hke  a  boar  therein.  Who  could  have 
thought  that  any  one  could  so  far  have  been  blinded 
by  the  power  of  lust?  But  what  is  written  must  be 
tiue;  they  “  stumble  at  the  word,  being  disobedient, 
whereunto  also  they  were  appointed.”  1  Peter,  2  :  8. 
Again,  his  supposing  that  such  may  have  the  godly 
men  s  virtues,  who  addict  themselves  to  their  vices,  is 
also  a  delusion  as  strong  as  the  other.  To  eat  up  the 
sin  of  God’s  people,  Hos.  4  :  8,  as  a  dog  licks  up  filth, 
is  no  sign  of  one  that  is  possessed  with  their  virtues. 
Nor  can  I  believe  that  one  who  is  of  this  opinion  c,  ri 
at  present  have  faith  or  love  in  him.  But  I  know  you 
have  made  some  strong  objections  against  him ;  prithee 
what  can  he  say  for  himself? 

Hon.  Why,  he  says,  to  do  this  by  way  of  opinion 
seems  abundantly  more  honest  than  to  do  it,  and  yet 
hold  contrary  to  it  in  opinion. 

Great.  A  very  wicked  answer.  For  though  to  let 
loose  the  biidle  to  lusts,  while  our  opinions  are  against 
such  things,  is  bad  5  yet  to  sin,  and  plead  a  toleration 
so  to  do,  is  worse :  the  one  stumbles  beholders  acci¬ 
dentally,  the  other  leads  them  into  the  snare. 

Hon.  There  are  many  of  this  man’s  mind,  that  have 
not  this  man’s  mouth;  and  that  makes  going  on  pil¬ 
grimage  of  so  little  esteem  as  it  is. 

Great.  You  have  said  the  truth,  and  it  is  to  be  la¬ 
mented  :  but  he  that  feareth  the  king  of  paradise  shall 
come  out  of  them  all. 


312 


TALK  ABOUT  SOME  PROFESSORS. 


Chris.  There  are  strange  opinions  in  the  world.  I 
know  one  that  said,  it  was  time  enough  to  repent  when 
we  com 3  to  die. 

Great.  Such  are  not  over-wise;  that  man  would 
have  been  loth,  might  he  have  had  a  week  to  run 
twenty-miles  in  his  life,  to  defer  his  journey  to  the  last 
hour  of  that  week. 

Hon.  You  say  right;  and  yet  the  generality  of  them, 
who  count  themselves  pilgrims,  do  indeed  do  thus.  I 
am,  as  you  see,  an  old  man,  and  have  been  a  traveller 
in  this  road  many  a  day ;  and  I  have  taken  notice  of 
many  things. 

I  have  seen  some  that  have  set  out  as  if  they  would 
drive  all  the  world  before  them,  who  yet  have,  in  a  few 
days,  died  as  they  in  the  wilderness,  and  so  never  got 
sight  of  the  promised  land.  I  have  seen  some  that 
have  promised  nothing  at  first  setting  out  to  be  pil¬ 
grims,  and  who  one  would  have  thought  could  not 
have  lived  a  day,  that  have  yet  proved  very  good  pil¬ 
grims.  I  have  seen  some  who  have  run  hastily  for¬ 
ward,  that  again  have,  after  a  little  time,  run  just  as 
fast  back  again.  I  have  seen  some  who  have  spoken 
very  well  of  a  pilgrim’s  life  at  first,  that  after  a  while 
have  spoken  as  much  against  it.  I  have  heard  some, 
when  they  first  set  out  for  paradise,  say  positively, 
there  is  such  a  place,  who,  when  they  have  been 
almost  there,  have  come  back  again,  and  said  there  is 
none.  I  have  heard  some  vaunt  what  they  would  do 
in  case  they  should  be  opposed,  that  have,  even  at  a 
false  alarm,  fled  faith,  the  pilgrim’s  way,  and  all. 

Now  as  they  were  thus  on  their  way,  there  came 
Fresh  news  of  one  running  to  meet  them,  and  said, 
trouble.  Gentlemen,  and  you  of  the  weaker  sort, 

if  you  love  life,  shift  for  yourselves,  for  the  robbers 
are  before  you. 


THE  PILGRIMS  REACH  THE  HOUSE  OF  GAIUS.  313 

Great.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  They  be  the 
three  that  set  upon  Little-Faith  heretofore.  Well*  said 
he,  we  are  ready  for  them :  so  they  went  Great-heart’s  re- 
on  their  way.  Now  they  looked  at  every  solutlou* 
turning  when  they  should  have  met  with  the  villains ; 
but  whether  they  heard  of  Mr.  Great-heart,  or  whether 
they  had  some  other  game,  they  came  not  up  to  the 
pilgrims. 

Christiana  then  wished  for  an  inn  to  refresh  herself 
and  her  children,  because  they  were  Christiana  wishes 
weary.  Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  There  for  an  iun- 
is  one  a  little  before  us,  where  a  very  honorable  dis¬ 
ciple,  one  Gaius  dwells,  Rom.  16  :  23.  So  they  all  con¬ 
cluded  to  turn  in  thither ;  and  the  rather,  because  the 
old  gentleman  gave  him  so  good  a  report.  When  they 
came  to  the  door  they  went  in,  not  knocking,  for 
folks  use  not  to  knock  at  the  door  of  an  inn.  Then 
they  called  for  the  master  of  the  house,  and  he 
came  to  them.  So  they  asked  if  they  might  lie  there 
that  night. 

Gaius.  Yes,  gentlemen,  if  you  be  true  men;  for  my 
house  is  for  none  but  pilgrims.  Then  Gaius  entertains 
were  Christiana,  Mercy,  and  the  boys,  them>  and  how- 
the  more  glad,  for  that  the  innkeeper  was  a  lover  of 
pilgrims.  So  they  called  for  rooms,  and  he  showed 
them  one  for  Christiana  and  her  children,  and  Mercy, 
and  another  for  Mr.  Great-heart  and  the  old  gentleman. 

Great.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  Good  Gaius, 
what  hast  thou  for  supper?  for  these  pilgrims  have 
come  far  to-day,  and  are  weary. 

Gaius.  It  is  late,  said  Gaius,  so  we  cannot  conve¬ 
niently  go  out  to  seek  food;  but  such  as  we  have  you 
shall  be  welcome  to,  if  that  will  content. 

Great.  We  will  be  content  with  what  thou  hast  in 

27 


314  THE  PILGRIMS  AT  GAIUS’s  HOUSE. 

the  house;  for  as  much  as  I  have  proved  thee,  thou 
art  never  destitute  of  that  which  is  convenient. 

Then  he  went  down  and  spake  to  the  cook,  whose 
name  was  Taste-that-which-is-good,  to 
Gaius’s  cook.  get  ready  supper  for  s0  many  pilgrims. 

This  done,  he  came  up  again,  saying,  Come,  my  good 
friends,  you  are  welcome  to  me,  and  I 
He  comes  up  again.  g|ad  tiiat  I  have  a  house  to  enter¬ 

tain  you  in ;  and  while  supper  is  making  ready,  if  you 
please,  let  us  entertain  one  another  with  some  good 
discourse;  so  they  all  said,  Content. 

Gaius.  Then  said  Gains,  Whose  wife  is  this  aged 

Talk  between  Gains  matron?  and  whose  daughter  is  this 
aud  his  guests.  young  damsel  ? 

Great.  This  woman  is  the  wife  of  one  Christian,  a 
a  pilgrim  of  former  times ;  and  these  are  his  four  chil¬ 
dren.  The  maid  is  one  of  her  acquaintance,  one  that 
she  hath  persuaded  to  come  with  her  on  pilgrimage. 
The  boys  take  all  after  their  father,  and  covet  to  tread 
in  his  steps :  yea,  if  they  do  but  see  any  place  where 
the  old  pilgrim  hath  lain,  or  any  print  of  his  foot,  il 
ministereth  joy  to  their  hearts,  and  they  covet  to  lie  or 
tread  in  the  same. 

Gaius.  Then  said  Gaius,  Is  this  Christian’s  wife,  and 
of  Christian’s  an-  are  these  Christian’s  children?  I  knew 
cestors.  y0ur  husband’s  father,  j^ea,  also  his  fa¬ 

ther’s  father.  Many  have  been  good  of  this  stock ;  their 
ancestors  dwelt  first  at  Antioch,  Acts,  11  :  M6.  Chris 
tian’s  progenitors  (I  suppose  you  have  heard  your  hus¬ 
band  talk  of  them)  were  very  worthy  men.  They  have, 
above  any  that  1  know,  showed  themselves  men  ol 
great  virtue  and  courage  for  the  Lord  of  the  pilgrims, 
his  ways,  and  them  that  loved  him.  I  have  heard  ol 
many  of  your  husband’s  relations  that  have  stood  all 


THE  PILGRIMS  AT  GAIUS’S  HOUSE. 


315 


trials  for  the  sake  of  the  truth.  Stephen,  that  was  one 
of  the  first  of  the  family  from  whence  your  husband 
sprang,  was  knocked  on  the  head  with  stones,  Acts, 
7  :  59,  GO.  James,  another  of  this  generation,  was  slain 
with  the  edge  of  the  sword,  Acts,  12  :  2.  To  say  no¬ 
thing  of  Paul  and  Peter,  men  anciently  of  the  family 
from  whence  your  husband  came,  there  was  Ignatius, 
who  was  cast  to  the  lions;  Romanus,  whose  flesh  was 
cut  by  pieces  from  his  bones;  and  Poly  carp,  that  played 
the  man  in  the  fire.  There  was  he  that  was  hanged  up 
in  a  basket  in  the  sun  for  the  wasps  to  eat;  and  he 
whom  they  put  into  a  sack,  and  cast  into  the  sea  to  be 
drowned.  It  would  be  impossible  utterly  to  count  up 
all  of  that  family  who  have  suffered  injuries  and  death 
for  the  love  of  a  pilgrim’s  life.  Nor  can  I  but  be  glad 
to  see  that  thy  husband  has  left  behind  him  four  such 
boys  as  these.  I  hope  they  will  bear  up  their  father’s 
name,  and  tread  in  their  father  s  steps,  and  come  to 
their  father’s  end 

Great.  Indeed,  Sir,  they  are  likely  lads:  they  seem 
to  choose  heartily  their  father’s  ways. 

Gaius.  rl  hat  is  it  that  I  said.  Wherefore  Christian’s 
family  is  like  still  to  spread  abroad  upon  the  face  of 
the  ground,  and  yet  to  be  numerous  ...  . 

upon  the  face  of  the  earth ;  let  Chris-  tiana  about  her 
tiana  look  out  some  damsels  for  her  bo>s‘ 
sons,  to  whom  they  may  be  betrothed,  &c.  that  the 
name  of  their  father,  and  the  house  of  his  progenitors, 
may  never  be  forgotten  in  the  world. 

IIon.  ’Tis  pity  his  family  should  fall  and  be  extinct. 

Gaius.  Fall  it  cannot,  but  be  diminished  it  may;  but 
let  Christiana  take  my  advice,  and  that  is  the  way  to 
uphold  it.  And,  Christiana,  said  this  inn-keeper,  I  am 
glad  to  see  thee  and  thy  friend  Mercy  together  here,  a 


316 


THE  PILGRIMS  AT  GAIUS’S  HOUSE. 


lovely  couple.  And  if  I  may  advise,  take  Mercy  into 
a  nearer  relation  to  thee :  if  she  will,  let  her  be  given  to 
Matthew  thy  eldest  son.  It  is  the  way  to  preserve  a 
posterity  in  the  earth.  So  this  match  was  concluded, 
and  in  process  of  time  they  were  mar- 

A  match  between  .  ,  .  .  A  ,  . 

Mercy  and  Mat-  ned :  but  more  of  that  herealter. 

thevv*  Gaius  also  proceeded,  and  said,  I  will 

now  speak  on  the  behalf  of  women,  to  take  away  their 
reproach.  For  as  death  and  the  curse  came  into  the 
world  by  a  woman,  Gen.  3 ;  so  also  did  life  and  health  : 
God  sent  forth  his  Son,  made  of  a  woman,  Gal.  4  :  4. 
Yea,  to  show  how  much  they  that  came  after  did  ab¬ 
hor  the  act  of  the  mother,  this  sex  in 
much e deseed  the  Old  Testament  coveted  children,  if 
children.  happily  this  or  that  woman  might  be 

the  mother  of  the  Savior  of  the  world.  I  will  say  again, 
that  when  the  Savior  was  come,  women  rejoiced  in 
him,  before  either  man  or  angel,  Luke,  1  :  42—46.  I 
read  not  that  man  ever  gave  unto  Christ  so  much  as 
one  groat;  but  the  women  followed  him,  and  minis¬ 
tered  to  him  of  their  substance,  Luke,  8  :  2,  3.  ’Twas  a 
woman  that  washed  his  feet  with  tears,  Luke,  7  :  37— 
50 ;  and  a  woman  that  anointed  his  body  to  the  burial, 
John,  11  :  2;  12  :  3.  They  were  women  who  wept 
when  he  was  going  to  the  cross,  Luke,  23  :  27 ;  and 
women  that  followed  him  from  the  cross,  Matt.  27 . 55, 
56 ;  Luke,  23  :  55 ;  and  that  sat  over  against  his  sepul¬ 
chre  when  he  was  buried,  Matt.  27  :  61.  They  were 
women  that  were  first  with  him  at  his  resurrection- 
morn,  Luke,  24  :  1 ;  and  women  that  brought  tidings 
first  to  his  disciples  that  he  was  risen  from  the  dead, 
Luke,  24  :  22,  23.  Women  therefore  are  highly  fa¬ 
vored,  and  show  by  these  things  that  they  are  sharers 
with  us  in  the  grace  of  life. 


THE  SUPPER. 


317 


Now  the  cook  sent  up  to  signify  that  supper  was 
almost  ready,  and  sent  one  to  lay  the  „ 

,  .  ,  ,  t  .  *  i  Supper  ready. 

cloth,  and  the  trenchers,  and  to  set  the 
salt  and  bread  in  order. 

Then  said  Matthew,  The  sight  of  this  cloth,  and  of 
this  forerunner  of  the  supper,  begetteth  in  me  a  greater 
appetite  to  my  food  than  I  had  before. 

Gaius.  So  let  all  ministering  doctrines  to  thee  in  this 
life  beget  in  thee  a  greater  desire  to  sit  at  the  supper 
of  the  great  King  in  his  kingdom;  for  all  preaching, 
books,  and  ordinances  here,  are  but  as  . .  .  . 
the  laying  of  the  trenchers,  and  the  set-  tiiered  from  lay- 
ting  of  salt  upon  the  board,  when  com-  wuh^h^cioth^nd 
pared  with  the  feast  which  our  Lord  will  trenchers- 
make  for  us  when  we  come  to  his  house. 

So  -supper  came  up.  And  first  a  heave-shoulder  and 
a  wave%reast  were  set  on  the  table  before  them ;  to 
show  that  they  must  begin  the  meal  with  prayer  and 
praise  to  God.  The  heave-shoulder  David  lifted  up  his 
heart  to  God  with ;  and  with  the  wave-breast,  whe^e 
his  heart  lay,  he  used  to  lean  upon  his  harp  when  he 
played,  Lev.  7  :  32 — 34;  10  :  14,  15 ;  Psalm  25:1;  Heb. 
13  :  15.  These  two  dishes  were  very  fresh  and  good, 
and  they  all  ate  heartily  thereof. 

The  next  they  brought  up  was  a  bottle  of  wine,  as 
red  as  blood,  Dent.  32  :  14;  Judg.  9  :  13;  John,  15:5. 
So  Gaius  said  to  them,  Drink  freely;  this  is  the  true 
juice  of  the  vine,  that  makes  glad  the  heart  of  God  and 
man.  So  they  drank  and  were  merry. 

The  next  was  a  dish  of  milk  well  crumbed;  Gaius 
said,  Let  the  boys  have  that,  that  they 
may  grow  thereby,  1  Pet.  2  :  1,  2.  A  d,sh  of  miIk‘ 

Then  they  brought  up  in  course  a  dish  of  butter  and 

27* 


818 


THE  SUPPER. 


Of  honey  and  honey.  Then  said  Gaius,  Eat  freely  oJ 
butter.  this,  for  this  is  good  to  cheer  up  and 

strengthen  your  judgments  and  understandings.  This 
was  our  Lord’s  dish  when  he  was  a  child ;  11  Butter  and 
honey  shall  he  eat,  that  he  may  know  to  refuse  the 
evil,  and  choose  the  good.”  Isa.  7  :  15. 

Then  they  brought  up  a  dish  of  apples,  and  they 

were  very  good  tasted  fruit.  Then  said 
A  dish  of  apples.  MattlieW)  May  we  eat  apples,  since  it 

was  they  by  and  with  which  the  serpent  beguiled  our 
first  mother  ? 

Then  said  Gaius : 

«  Apples  were  they  with  which  we  were  beguil’d; 

“  Yet  sin,  not  apples,  hath  our  souls  defil’d  : 

“  Apples  forbid,  if  ate,  corrupt  the  blood ; 

“  To  each  such,  when  commanded,  does  us  good : 

“  Drink  of  his  flagons  then,  thou  church,  his  dove, 

“  And  eat  his  apples,  who  art  sick  of  love.” 

Then  said  Matthew,  I  made  the  scruple,  because  I 
a-while  since  was  sick  with  the  eating  of  fruit. 

.Gaius.  Forbidden  fruit  will  make  you  sick ;  but  not 
what  our  Lord  has  tolerated. 

While  they  were  thus  talking,  they  were  presented 
with  another  dish,  and  it  was  a  dish  of 

A  dish  of  nuts.  gong  6  ;  H.  Then  said  some  at 

the  table,  Nuts  spoil  tender  teeth,  especially  the  teeth 
of  the  children :  which  when  Gaius  heard,  he  said  ; 

“  Hard  texts  are  nuts,  (I  will  not  call  them  cheaters,) 

“  Whose  shells  do  keep  their  kernels  from  the  eaters ; 

“  Open  the  shells,  and  you  shall  have  the  meat; 

“  They  here  are  brought  for  you  to  crack  and  eat.” 

Then  were  they  very  merry,  and  sat  at  the  table  a 
long  time,  talking  of  many  things.  Then  said  the 
old  gentleman,  My  good  landlord,  while  we  are  crack¬ 
ing  your  nuts,  if  you  please,  do  you  open  this  riddle : 


OLD  HONEST’S  RIDDLE. 


319 


A  man  there  was,  though  some  did  count  him  mad,  A  riddle  put  forth 

The  more  he  cast  away,  the  more  he  had.  by  old  Honest. 

Then  they  all  gave  good  heed,  wondering  what 
good  Gaius  would  say ;  so  he  sat  still  a  while,  and 
then  thus  replied : 

He  who  bestows  his  goods  upon  the  poor,  Gaiug  opena  u 

Shall  have  as  much  again,  and  ten  times  more. 

•Then  said  Joseph,  I  dare  say,  sir,  I  wooders 

did  not  think  you  could  have  found 
it  out. 

Oh !  said  Gaius,  I  have  been  trained  up  in  this  way 
a  great  while:  nothing  teaches  like  experience.  I 
have  learned  of  my  Lord  to  be  kind,  and  have  found 
by  experience  that  I  have  gained  thereby.  There  is 
that  scattereth,  and  yet  increaseth ;  and  there  is  that 
withholdeth  more  than  is  meet,  but  it  tendeth  to  pover¬ 
ty.  There  is  that  maketh  himself  rich,  yet  hath  no¬ 
thing  :  there  is  that  maketh  himself  poor,  yet  hath 
great  riches,  Prov.  11 :  24  ;  13  :  7. 

Then  Samuel  whispered  to  Christiana,  his  mother, 
and  said,  Mother,  this  is  a  very  good  man’s  house  ;  let 
us  stay  here  a  good  while,  and  let  my  brother  Mat¬ 
thew  be  married  here  to  Mercy,  before  we  go  any,  fur¬ 
ther.  The  which  Gaius,  the  host,  over-hearing,  said, 
With  a  very  good  will,  my  child.  So  they  stayed  here 
more  than  a  month,  and  Mercy  was  Matthew  and 
given  to  Matthew  to  wife.  While  they  Merc^  raarried- 
stayed  here,  Mercy,  as  her  custom  was,  made  coats 
and  garments  to  give  to  the  poor,  by  which  she 
brought  a  very  good  report  upon  the  pilgrims. 

But  to  return  again  to  our  story.  After  supper  the 
lads  desired  a  bed,  for  they  were  weary  The  boys  go  to 
with  travelling.  Then  Gaius  called  to  bed,the  rest  sltuP- 


320 


MR.  GREAT-HEART’S  RIDDLE. 


show  them  their  chamber;  blit  said  Mercy,  I  will 
have  them  to  bed.  So  she  had  them  to  bed,  and  they 
slept  well :  but  the  rest  sat  up  all  night ;  for  Gaius 
and  they  were  such  suitable  company,  that  they  could 
not  tell  how  to  Dart.  After  much  talk  of  their  Lord, 
themselves,  and  their  journey,  old  Mr. 
Honest,  he  that  put  forth  the  riddle  tc 
Gaius,  began  to  nod.  Then  said  Great-heart,  What, 
Sir,  you  begin  to  be  drowsy ;  come,  rub  up,  here  is  a 
riddle  for  you.  Then  said  Mr.  Honest,  let  us  hear  it. 
Then  replied  Mr.  Great-heart: 


Old  Honest  nods. 


A  riddle. 


He  that  will  kill,  must  first  be  overcome: 

Who  live  abroad  would,  first  must  die  at  home. 


Ha!  said  Mi.  Honest,  it  is  a  hard  one;  hard  to 
expound,  and  harder  to  practise.  But,  come,  land¬ 
lord,  said  he,  I  will,  if  you  please,  leave  my  part  to 
you  :  do  you  expound  it,  and  I  will  hear  what  you  say. 

No,  said  Gaius,  it  was  put  to  you,  and  it  is  expected 
you  should  answer  it.  Then  said  the  old  gentleman 


The  riddle  opened. 


He  first  by  grace  must  conquered  be, 
That  sin  would  mortify: 

Who  that  he  lives  would  convince  me 
Unto  himself  must  die. 


It  is  right,  said  Gaius ;  good  doctrine  and  experi 
ence  teach  this.  For  first,  until  grace  displays  itself, 
and  overcomes  the  soul  with  its  glory,  it  is  alto¬ 
gether  without  heart  to  oppose  sin.  Besides,  if  sin  is 
Satan’s  cord,  by  which  the  soul  lies  bound,  how  should 
it  make  resistance  before  it  is  loosed  from  that  infir¬ 
mity?  Secondly,  Nor  will  any  one  that  knows  either 
reason  or  grace  believe  that  such  a  man  can  be  a 
living  monument  of  grace  that  is  a  slave  to  his  own 
A  question  worth  corruption.  And  now  it  comes  into  my 
mind,  I  will  tell  you  a  story  worth  the 


the  minding. 


A  COMPARISON. 


321 


A  comparison. 


A  mistake. 


hearing.  There  were  two  men  that  went  on  pilgrim¬ 
age  ;  the  one  began  when  he  was  young,  the  other 
when  he  was  old.  The  young  man  had  strong  cor¬ 
ruptions  to  grapple  with;  the  old  man’s  were  weak 
with  the  decays  of  nature.  The  young  man  trod  his 
steps  as  even  as  did  the  old  one,  and  was  every  way  as 
light  as  he.  Who  now,  or  which  of  them,  had  their 
graces  shining  clearest,  since  both  seemed  to  be  alike? 

Hon.  The  young  man’s  doubtless.  For  that  which 
makes  head  against  the  greatest  opposi¬ 
tion,  gives  best  demonstration  that  it  is 
strongest ;  especially  when  it  also  holdeth  pace  with 
that  which  meets  not  with  half  so  much,  as  to  be  sure 
old  age  does  not.  Besides,  I  have  observed  that  old 
men  have  blessed  themselves  with  this 
mistake  ;  namely,  taking  the  decays  of 
nature  for  a  gracious  conquest  over  corruptions,  and 
so  have  been  apt  to  beguile  themselves.  Indeed,  old 
men  that  are  gracious  are  best  able  to  give  advice  to 
them  that  are  young,  because  they  have  seen  most  of 
the  emptiness  of  things :  but  yet,  for  an  old  and  a 
young  man  to  set  out  both  together,  the  young  one 
has  the  advantage  of  the  fairest  discovery  of  a  work 
of  grace  within  him,  though  the  old  man’s  corruptions 
are  naturally  the  weakest.  Thus  they  sat  talking  till 
break  of  day. 

Now  when  the  family  were  up,  Christiana  bid  her 
son  James  read  a  chapter  ;  so  he  read  the  53d  of  Isai¬ 
ah.  When  he  had  done,  Mr.  Honest 
asked  why  it  was  said  that  the  Savior 
was  to  come  out  of  a  dry  ground ;  and  also  that  he 
had  no  form  or  comeliness  in  him. 

Great.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  To  the  first  I 
answer,  Because  the  church  of  the  Jews,  of  which 


Another  question 


322  GIANT  SLAY-GOOD  ROBBING  MR.  FEEBLE-MIND. 

Christ  came,  had  then  lost  almost  all  the  sap  and 
spirit  of  religion.  To  the  second  I  say,  the  words  are 
spoken  in  the  person  of  unbelievers,  who,  because 
they  want  the  eye  that  can  see  into  our  Prince’s  heait, 
therefore  they  judge  of  him  by  the  meanness  of  his 
outside,  just  like  those  who,  not  knowing  that  pre¬ 
cious  stones  are  covered  over  with  a  homely  crust, 
when  they  have  found  one,  because  they  know  not 
what  they  have  found,  cast  it  away  again,  as  men  do 
a  common  stone. 

Well,  said  Gaius,  now  you  are  here,  and  since,  as  I 
know,  Mr.  Great-heart  is  good  at  his  weapons,  if  you 
please,  after  we  have  refreshed  ourselves,  we  will  walk 
into  the  fields,  to  see  if  we  can  do  any  good.  About  a 
mile  from  hence  there  is  one  Slay-good,  a  giant,  that 
doth  much  annoy  the  King’s  highway  in  these 
parts ;  and  I  know  whereabout  his  haunt  is.  He  is 
master  of  a  number  of  thieves:  ’twould  be  well  if  we 
could  clear  these  parts  of  him.  So  they  consented 
and  went ;  Mr.  Great-heart  with  his  sword,  helmet, 
and  shield ;  and  the  rest  with  spears  and  staves. 

When  they  were  come  to  the  place  where  he  was, 
they  found  him  with  one  Feeble-mind 

fomidnt  with  goSp  his  hand,  whom  his  servants  had 
Feeble-mind  in  his  brought  unto  him,  having  taken  him  in 
the  way.  Now  the  giant  was  rifling 
him,  with  a  purpose  after  that  to  pick  his  bones;  for 
he  was  of  the  nature  of  flesh-eaters. 

Well,  so  soon  as  he  saw  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his 
friends  at  the  mouth  of  his  cave,  with  their  weapons, 
he  demanded  what  they  wanted. 

Great.  We  want  thee  ;  for  we  are  come  to  revenge 
the  quarrels  of  the  many  pilgrims  that  thou  hast  slain, 
when  thou  hast  dragged  them  out  of  the  King’s  high- 


Great-heart  daring  Giant  Slay -good  to  combat.  P-322. 


>  , 


GREAT-HEART  KILLS  GIANT  SLAY-GOOD.  323 

way  :  wherefore  come  out  of  thy  cave.  So  he  armed 
himself  and  came  out,  and  to  battle  they  went,  and 
fought  for  above  an  hour,  and  then  stood  still  to  take 
wind. 

Slay.  Then  said  the  giant,  Why  are  you  here  on 
my  ground? 

Great.  To  revenge  the  blood  of  pilgrims,  as  I  told 
thee  before.  So  they  went  to  it  again,  and  the  giant 
made  Mr.  Great-heart  give  back :  but  he  came  up 
again,  and  in  the  greatness  of  his  mind  he  let  fly  with 
such  stoutness  at  the  giant’s  head  and  The  giant  as. 
sides,  that  he  made  him  let  his  weapon  saulted  and  On¬ 
fall  out  of  his  hand.  So  he  smote  him,  and  slew  him, 
and  cut  off  his  head,  and  brought  it  away  to  the  inn. 
He  also  took  Feeble-mind,  the  pilgrim,  and  brought 
him  with  him  to  his  lodgings.  When  they  were  come 
home,  they  showed  his  head  to  the  family,  and  set  it 
up,  as  they  had  done  others  before,  for  a  terror  to 
those  that  should  attempt  to  do  as  he  hereafter. 

Then  they  asked  Mr.  Feeble-mind  how  he  fell  into 
his  hands. 

Feeble.  Then  said  the  poor  man,  I  am  a  sickly 
man,  as  you  see  :  and  because  death  did  usually  once 
a  day  knock  at  my  door,  I  thought  I  should  never  be 
well  at  home  ;  so  I  betook  myself  to  a  Feeble-mind 
pilgrim’s  life,  and  have  travelled  hither  golm  t0  be  a  pli‘ 
from  the  town  of  Uncertain,  where  I  and  my  father 
were  born.  I  am  a  man  of  no  strength  at  all  of  body, 
nor  yet  of  mind,  but  would,  if  I  could,  though  I  can 
but  crawl,  spend  my  life  in  the  pilgrim’s  way.  When 
I  came  at  the  gate  that  is  at  the  head  of  the  way,  the 
Lord  of  that  place  did  entertain  me  freelv ;  neither 
objected  he  against  my  weakly  looks,  nor  against  my 
feeble  mind  ;  but  gave  me  such  things  as  were  neces- 


324 


MR.  FEEELE-M!ND:S  HISTORY. 


sary  for  my  journey,  and  bid  me  hope  to  the  end. 
When  I  came  to  the  house  of  the  Interpreter  I  re¬ 
ceived  much  kindness  there :  and  because  the  hill  of 
Difficulty  was  judged  too  hard  for  me,  I  was  carried 
up  it  by  one  of  his  servants.  Indeed,  I  have  found 
much  relief  from  pilgrims,  though  none  were  willing 
to  go  so  softly  as  I  am  forced  to  do :  yet  still  as  they 
came  on,  they  bid  me  be  of  good  cheer,  and  said,  that 
it  was  the  will  of  their  Lord  that  comfort  should  be 
given  to  the  feeble-minded,  1  Thess.  5:  14;  and  so 
went  on  their  own  pace.  When  I  was  come  to 
Assault-lane,  then  this  giant  met  with  me,  and  bid 
me  prepare  for  an  encounter.  But,  alas  !  feeble  one 
that  I  was,  I  had  more  need  of  a  cordial ;  so  he  came 
up  and  took  me.  I  conceited  he  would  not  kill  me. 
Also  when  he  had  got  me  into  his  den,  since  I  w’ent 
not  with  him  willingly,  I  believed  I  should  come  out 

Mark  this i  a^ve  again  5  for  I  have  heard,  that  not 
any  pilgrim  that  is  taken  captive  by  vio¬ 
lent  hands,  if  he  keeps  heartwhole  toward  his  Mas¬ 
ter,  is,  by  the  laws  of  providence,  to  die  by  the  hand 
of  the  enemy.  Robbed  I  looked  to  be,  and  robbed  to 
be  sure  I  am ;  but  I  have,  as  you  see,  escaped  with 
life,  for  the  which  I  thank  my  King  as  the  author,  and 
you  as  the  means.  Other  brunts  I  also  look  for;  but 
.  ,  this  I  have  resolved  on,  to  wit,  to  run 
when  1  can,  to  go  when  I  cannot  run, 
and  to  creep  when  I  cannot  go.  As  to  the  main,  I 
thank  Him  that  loved  me,  I  am  fixed ;  my  way  is  be¬ 
fore  me,  my  mind  is  beyond  the  river  that  has  no 
bridge,  though  I  am,  as  you  see,  but  of  a  feeble  mind. 

Hon.  Then  said  old  Mr.  Honest,  Have  not  you,  some 
time  ago,  been  acquainted  with  one  Mr.  Fearing,  a 
pilgrim  ? 


MR.  FEEBLE-MIND  COMPORTED. 


325 


Feeble.  Acquainted  with  him  !  Yes,  he  came  from 
the  town  of  Stupidity,  which  lieth  four  degrees  north¬ 
ward  of  the  city  of  Destruction,  and  as  many  off  of 
where  I  was  born:  yet  we  were  wellT,Mr-Fearin&Mr- 

,  Feeble-imnd’s  un¬ 
acquainted,  for  indeed  he  was  my  uncle,  cie. 

my  father’s  brother.  He  and  I  have  been  much  of  a 

temper :  he  was  a  little  shorter  than  I,  but  yet  we 

were  much  of  a  complexion. 

Hon.  I  perceive  you  knew  him,  and  I  am  apt  to 

believe  also  that  you  were  related  one  _  , ,  .  . . 

J  1  FeeWe-ound  has 

to  another;  for  you  have  his  whitely  some  of  Mi.  Fear- 

look,  a  cast  like  his  with  your  eye,  and  msr’s  featuros- 

your  speech  is  much  alike. 

Feeble.  Most  have  said  so  that  have  known  us  both  : 

and,  besides,  what  I  have  read  in  him  I  have  for  the 

most  part  found  in  myself. 

Gaius.  Come,  sir,  said  good  Gaius,  be  of  good  cheer  ; 

you  are  welcome  to  me  and  to  my  house.  Gaius  comfort* 

What  thou  hast  a  mind  to,  call  for 

freely ;  and  what  thou  wouldst  have  my  servants  do 

for  thee,  they  will  do  it  with  a  ready  mind. 

Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  This  is  an  unexpected 

favor,  and  as  the  sun  shining  out  of  a  very  dark  cloud. 

Did  giant  Slay-good  intend  me  this  fa-  Notice  to  be  ta- 
vor  when  he  stopped  me,  and  resolved  ken  of  Providence 

to  let  me  go  no  further  ?  Did  he  intend,  that  after  he 
had  rifled  my  pockets  I  should  go  to  Gaius  mine  host? 
Yet  so  it  is. 

Now  just  as  Mr.  Feeble-mind  and  Gaius  were  thus 
in  talk,  there  came  one  running,  and 

•  i  mi  1  Tidings  how  one 

called  at  the  door,  and  said,  That  about  Not-right  n  slain 
a  mile  and  a  half  off  there  was  one  Mr.  by  a  thunderbolu 
Not-right,  a  pilgrim,  struck  dead  upon  the  place  where 
he  was,  with  a  thunderbolt. 

28 


326  MATTHEW  ANL  JAMES  MARRIED. 

Feeble.  Alas!  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  is  he  slain  1 

Mr.  Feebie-mind’s  He  overtook  me  some  days  before  I 
comment  upon  it.  came  so  far  as  hither,  and  would  be 

my  company-keeper.  He  also  was.  with  me  when 
Slay-good  the  giant  took  me,  but  he  was  nimble  of  his 
heels,  and  escaped :  but  it  seems  he  escaped  to  die, 
and  I  was  taken  to  live. 

What  wou'd  cue  think  doth  seek  to  slay  outright, 

Ofttiines  delivers  from  the  jfcddest  plight. 

That  very  Providence  whose  face  is  death, 

Iioth  ofttimes  to  the  lowly  life  bequeath. 

I  taken  was,  he  did  escape  and  flee  ; 

Hands  cross’d  gave  death  to  him  and  life  to  me. 

Now  about  this  time  Matthew  and  Mercy  were  maj 
ried;  also  Gaius  gave  his  daughter  Phebe  to  James, 
Matthew’s  brother,  to  wife ;  after  which  time,  they  yet 
stayed  about  ten  days  at  Gaius’s  house,  spending 
their  time,  and  the  seasons,  like  as  pilgrims  use  to  do. 

When  they  were  to  depart,  Gaius  made  them  a 
feast,  and  they  did  eat  and  drink,  and  were  merry. 
The  pilgrims  pre-  Now  the  hour  was  come  that  they  must 
pare  to  go  forward,  j-,0  gone;  wherefore  Mr.  Great-heart 

called  for  a  reckoning.  But  Gaius  told  him,  that 
at  his  house  it  was  not  the  custom  for  pilgrims  to  pay 
for  their  entertainment.  He  boarded  them  by  the 
year,  but  looked  for  his  pay  from  the  good  Samaritan, 
who  had  promised  him,  at  his  return,  whatsoever 
charge  he  was  at  with  them,  faithfully  to  repay  him, 
Luke,  10  :  34,  35.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart  to  him : 
Great.  Beloved,  thou  doest  faithfully  whatsoever 
thou  doest  to  the  brethren,  and  to 

How  they  greet  _  ,  . 

oue  another  at  strangers,  who  have  borne  witness  oi 
parting.  th y  charity  before  the  church,  whom  if 

thou  yet  bring  forward  on  their  journey,  after  a  godly 


/ 


THE  PILGRIMS  LEAVE  GAIUS7S  HOUSE. 


327 


sort,  thou  shalt  do  well,  John,  3 :  6.  Then  Gaius  took  his 
leave  of  them  all,  and  his  children,  and 
particularly  of  Mr.  Feeble-mind.  He  also  nSs^to*  lnFeeSe- 
gave  him  something  to  drink  by  the  way.  mind‘ 

Now  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  when  they  were  going  out 
of  the  door,  made  as  if  he  intended  to  linger.  The 
which,  when  Mr.  Great-heart  espied,  he  said,  Come, 
Mr.  Feeble-mmd,  pray  do  you  go  along  with  us ;  I 
will  be  your  conductor,  and  you  shall  fare  as  the  rest. 

Feeble.  Alas  !  I  want  a  suitable  companion.  You 
are  all  lusty  and  strong,  but  I,  as  you  see,  am  weak; 
I  choose  therefore  rather  to  come  be-  Feebie-romd  for 
tiind,  lest,  by  reason  of  my  many  infir-  £onis  Lell,nd- 
mities,  I  should  be  both  a  burden  to  myself  and  to 
you.  I  am,  as  I  said,  a  man  of  a  weak  and  feeble 
mind,  and  shall  be  offended  and  made  weak  at  that 
which  others  can  bear.  I  shall  like  no 
laughing ;  I  shall  like  no  gay  attire;  I 
shall  like  no  unprofitable  questions.  Nay,  I  am  so  weak 
a  man  as  to  be  offended  with  that  which  others  have  a 
liberty  to  do.  I  do  not  know  e.11  the  truth :  I  am  a  very 
ignorant  Christian  man.  Sometimes,  if  I  hear  any  re¬ 
joice  in  the  Lord,  it  troubles  me,  because  I  cannot  do  so 
too.  It  is  with  me  as  it  is  witli  a  weak  man  among  the 
strong,  or  as  with  a  sick  man  among  the  healthy,  or  as 
a  lamp  despised  ;  so  that  I  know  not  what  to  do.  u  He 
that  is  ready  to  slip  with  his  feet  is  as  a  lamp  despised 
in  the  thought  of  him  that  is  at  ease,”  Job,  12:  5. 

Great.  But,  brother,  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  I  have  it 
in  commission  to  comfort  the  feeble-  Great-heart’s  com¬ 
manded,  and  to  support  the  weak.  You  mission- 
must  needs  go  along  with  us  ;  we  will  wait  for  you  j 
we  will  lend  you  our  help ;  we  will  deny 


His  excuse  for  it. 


ourselves  of  some  things,  both  opinion- 


A  Christian  spirit. 


328 


MR.  READY-TO-HALT. 


ative  and  practical,  for  your  sake :  we  wiil  not  enter 
into  doubtful  deputations  before  you ;  we  will  be  made 
all  things  to  you,  rather  than  you  shall  be  left  behind, 
1  Thess.  5  : 14;  Rom.  14;  1  Cor.  8 :  9—13  ;  9 :  22. 

Now  all  this  while  they  were  at  Gaius’s  door ;  and 
behold,  as  they  were  thus  in  the  heat  of  their  dis¬ 
course,  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  came  by,  with  his  crutches 
in  his  hand,  and  he  also  was  going  on  pilgrimage. 

Feeble.  Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind  to  him,  How 
earnest  thou  hither?  I  was  but  now  complaining  that 

Feeblo-mind  glad  1  had  n0t  a  suitable  companion,  but  thou 
to  see  Ready-to-  art  according  to  my  wish.  Welcome, 
halt  come.  welcome,  good  Mr.  Ready-to-halt,  I 

hope  thou  and  I  may  be  some  help. 

Ready.  I  shall  be  glad  of  thy  company,  said  the 
other;  and,  good  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  rather  than  we 
will  part,  since  we  are  thus  happily  met,  I  will  lend 
thee  one  of  my  crutches. 

Feeble.  Nay,  answered  he,  though  I  thank  thee  for 
thy  good  will,  I  am  not  inclined  to  halt  before  I  am 
lame.  Howbeit,  I  think,  when  occasion  is,  it  may 
help  me  against  a  dog. 

Ready.  If  either  myself  or  my  crutches  can  do  thee 
a  pleasure,  we  are  both  at  thy  command,  good  Mr. 
Feeble-mind. 

Thus  therefore  they  went  on.  Mr.  Great-heart  and 
Mr.  Honest  went  before,  Christiana  and  her  children 
went  next,  and  Mr.  Feeble-mind  came  behind,  and  Mr. 
Ready-to-halt  with  his  crutches.  Then  said  Mr.  Honest, 

Hon.  Pray,  Sir,  now  we  are  upon  the  road,  tell  us 
some  profitable  things  ©f  some  that  have 
N‘ vv  1 1  gone  on  pilgrimage  before  us. 

Great.  With  a  good  will.  I  suppose  you  have  heard 
how  Christian  of  old  did  meet  with  Apollyon  in  the 


•  329 


NEW  TALK  OF  THE  PILGRIMS. 

Valley  of  Humiliation,  and  also  what  hard  work  he 
had  to  go  through  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death. 
Also  I  think  you  cannot  but  have  heard  how  Faithful 
was  put  to  it  by  Madam  Wanton,  with  Adam  the  First, 
and  Discontent,  and  Shame;  four  as  deceitful  villains 
as  a  man  can  meet  with  upon  the  road. 

Hon.  Yes,  I  believe  I  have  heard  of  all  this;  but  in¬ 
deed  good  Faithful  was  hardest  put  to  it  with  Shame : 
he  was  an  unwearied  one. 

Great.  Ay ;  for,  as  the  pilgrim  well  said,  he  of  all 
men  had  the  wrong  name. 

Hon.  But  pray,  Sir,  where  was  it  that  Christian  and 
Faithful  met  Talkative  ?  That  same  was  also  a  nota¬ 
ble  one. 

Great.  He  was  a  confident  fool ;  yet  many  follow 
his  ways. 

Hon.  He  had  like  to  have  beguiled  Faithful. 

Great.  Ay,  but  Christian  put  him  into  a  way  quick¬ 
ly  to  find  him  out. 

Thus  they  went  on  till  they  came  to  the  place  where 
Evangelist  met  with  Christian  and  Faithful,  and  pro¬ 
phesied  to  them  what  should  befall  them  at  Vanity 
Fair.  Then  said  their  guide,  Hereabouts  did  Christian 
and  Faithful  meet  with  Evangelist,  who  prophesied  to 
them  of  the  troubles  which  they  should  meet  with  at 
Vanity  Fair. 

Hon.  Say  you  so  ?  I  dare  say  it  was  a  hard  chapter 
that  then  he  read  unto  them. 

Great.  It  was,  but  he  gave  them  encouragement 
withal.  But  what  do  we  talk  of  them  ?  They  were  a 
couple  of  lion-like  men ;  they  had  set  their  faces  like 
flints.  Do  not  you  remember  how  undaunted  they 
were  when  they  stood  before  the  judge? 

Hon.  Well :  Faithful  bravely  suffered. 

28* 


330  VANITY  FAIR. — MR.  MNASON’s  HOUSE. 

Great.  So  he  did,  and  as  brave  things  came  on’t ; 
for  Hopeful,  and  some  others,  as  the  story  relates  it, 

were  converted  by  his  death. 

Hon.  Well,  but  pray  go  on ;  for  you  are  well  ac 

quainted  with  things. 

Great.  Above  all  that  Christian  met  with  after  he 
had  passed  through  Vanity  Fair,  one  By-ends  was 
the  arch  one. 

Hon.  By-ends !  what  was  he? 

Great.  A  very  arch  fellow,  a  downright  hypocrite; 
one  that  would  be  religious,  which  way  soever  the 
world  went ;  but  so  cunning,  that  he  would  be  sure 
never  to  lose  or  suffer  for  it.  He  had  his  mode  of  re¬ 
ligion  for  every  fresh  occasion,  and  his  wife  was  as 
good  at  it  as  he.  He  would  turn  from  opinion  to  opi¬ 
nion;  yea,  and  plead  for  so  doing  too.  But  as  far  as  I 
could  learn,  he  came  to  an  ill  end  with  his  by-ends , 
nor  did  I  ever  hear  that  any  of  his  children  were  ever 
of  any  esteem  with  any  that  truly  feared  God. 

Now  by  this  time  they  were  come  within  sight  of  the 
mi  ....  town  of  Vanity,  where  Vanity  Fair  is 

sight  of  Vanity  Fair.  l^ept.  So  when  they  saw  that  they  were 
so  near  the  town,  they  consulted  with  one  another 
how  they  should  pass  through  the  town ;  and  some 
said  one  thing,  and  some  another.  At  last  Mr.  Great- 
heart  said,  I  have,  as  you  may  understand,  often  been 
a  conductor  of  pilgrims  through  this  town.  Now,  I  am 
acquainted  with  one  Mr.  Mnason,  Acts,  21  .  16,  a  Cy- 
prusian  by  nation,  an  old  disciple,  at  whose  house  we 
may  lodge.  If  you  think  good,  we  will  turn  in  there. 

Content,  said  old  Honest  ;  Content,  said  Christiana: 
Content,  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind ;  and  so  they  said  all. 
Now  you  must  think  it  was  even-tide  by  that  they  got 
to  the  outside  of  the  town;  but  Mr.  Great-heart  knew 


MR.  MNASON’S  HOUSE. 


331 


the  way  to  the  old  man’s  house.  So  thither  they  came ; 
and  he  called  at  the  door,  and  the  old  man  within  knew 
his  tongue  as  soon  as  ever  he  heard  it ;  so  he  opened 
the  door,  and  they  all  came  in.  Then 
said  Mnason  their  host,  How  far  have  ye  one^iu. 
come  to-day  ?  So  they  said,  From  the  to  lodgt3‘ 
house  of  Gaius  your  friend.  I  promise  you,  said  he, 
‘you  have  come  a  good  stretch.  You  may  well  be  wea¬ 
ry;  sit  down.  So  they  sat  down. 

Great.  Then  said  their  guide,  Come,  what  cheer, 
good  sirs  ?  I  dare  say  you  are  welcome  to  my  friend. 

Mnas.  I  also,  said  Mr.  Mnason,  do  bid  you  welcome; 
and  whatever  you  want,  do  but  say,  and  we  will  do 
what  we  can  to  get  it  for  you. 

Hon.  Our  great  want,  a  while  since,  was  harbor  and 

good  company,  and  now  I  hope  we  have  They  are  glad  of 
both.  entertainment. 

Mnas.  For  harbor,  you  see  what  it  is;  but  for  good 
company,  that  will  appear  in  the  trial. 

Great.  Well,  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  will  you  have 
the  pilgrims  into  their  lodging  ? 

Mnas.  I  will,  said  Mr.  Mnason.  So  he  had  them  to 
their  respective  places ;  and  also  showed  them  a  very 
fair  dining-room,  where  they  might  be,  and  sup  to¬ 
gether  until  time  should  come  to  go  to  rest. 

Now  when  they  were  seated  in  their  places,  and 
were  a  little  refreshed  after  their  journey,  Mr.  Honest 
asked  his  landlord  if  there  was  any  store  of  good  peo¬ 
ple  in  the  town. 

Mnas.  We  have  a  few ;  for  indeed  they  are  but  a 
few  when  compared  with  them  on  the  other  side. 

Hon.  But  how  shall  we  do  to  see  some  of  them  ?  for 
the  sight  of  good  men  to  them  that  are  Theydeeiretosee 
going  on  pilgrimage  is  like  the  appear-  peopie°ofd!e  towu! 


332  mnason’s  friends  sent  for. 

ing  of  the  moon  and  stars  to  them  that  are  sailing  upon 
the  seas. 

Mnas.  Then  Mr.  Mnason  stamped  with  his  foot,  and 
his  daughter  Grace  came  up.  So  he  said  unto  her, 
Grace,  go  you,  tell  my  friends,  Mr.  Con- 

Some  sent  for.  ^ ^  Mr  Holy_marlj  m  r.  Love-saints,  Mr. 

Dare-not-lie,  and  Mr.  Penitent,  that  I  have  a  friend  or 
two  at  my  house  who  have  a  mind  this  evening  to  see 
them.  So  Grace  went  to  call  them,  and  they  came ; 
and  after  salutation  made,  they  sat  down  together  at 
the  table. 

Then  said  Mr.  Mnason  their  landlord,  My  neigh¬ 
bors,  I  have,  as  you  see,  a  company  of  strangers  come 
to  my  house ;  they  are  pilgrims :  they  come  from  afar, 
and  are  going  to  mount  Zion.  But  who,  quoth  he,  do 
you  think  this  is?  pointing  his  finger  to  Christiana. 
It  is  Christiana,  the  wife  of  Christian,  that  famous 
pilgrim,  who,  with  Faithful  his  brother,  was  so  shame¬ 
fully  handled  in  our  town.  At  that  they  stood 
amazed,  saying,  We  little  thought  to  see  Christiana 
when  Grace  came  to  call  us ;  wherefore  this  is  a  very 
comfortable  surprise.  They  then  asked  her  of  her 
welfare,  and  if  these  young  men  were  her  husband’s 
sons.  And  when  she  had  told  them  they  were,  they 
said,  The  King  whom  you  love  and  servo  make 
you  as  your  father,  and  bring  you  where  he  is  in 
peace. 

Hon.  Then  Mr.  Honest  (when  they 

t»fx7#ir!aHonbe«  had  all  sat  down)  asked  Mr.  Contrite  and 
and  Mr.  Contrite.  tjie  rest,  m  what  posture  their  town  was 

at  present. 

Contr.  You  may  be  sure  "we  are  full  of  hurry  in 
fair-time.  ’Tis  hard  keeping  our  hearts  and  spirits  in 
good  order  when  we  are  in  a  c-umbered  condition.  He 


PRESENT  STATE  OF  VANITY  FAIR.  333 


that  lives  in  such  a  place  as  this,  and  The  fruit  of 
has  to  do  with  such  as  we  have,  has  watchfiiness. 
need  of  an  item  to  caution  him  to  take  heed  every  mo¬ 
ment  of  the  day. 

Hon.  But  how  are  your  neighbors  now  for  qui¬ 


etness  ? 

Contr.  They  are  much  more  moderate  now  than 
formerly.  You  know  how  Christian  and  Persecutio„  not 
Faithful  were  used  at  our  town ;  but  of  so  hot  at  Vanity 

i  x  t  i  i  r  Fair  as  formerly. 

late,  I  say,  they  have  been  far  more  mo¬ 
derate.  I  think  the  blood  of  Faithful  lieth  as  a  load 
upon  them  till  now ;  for  since  they  burned  him,  they 
have  been  ashamed  to  burn  any  more.  In  those  days 
we  were  afraid  to  walk  the  streets ;  but  now  we  can 
show  our  heads.  Then  the  name  of  a  professor  was 
odious ;  now,  especially  in  some  parts  of  our  town, 
(for  you  know  our  town  is  large,)  religion  is  counted 
honorable.  Then  said  Mr.  Contrite  to  them,  Pray  how 
faretli  it  with  you  in  your  pilgrimage?  how  stands  the 
country  affected  toward  you  ? 

Hon.  It  happens  to  us  as  it  happeneth  to  wayfaring 
men;  sometimes  our  way  is  clean,  sometimes  foul; 
sometimes  up  hill,  sometimes  down  hill ;  we  are  sel¬ 
dom  at  a  certainty.  The  wind  is  not  always  on  our 
backs,  nor  is  every  one  a  friend  that  we  meet  with  in 
the  way.  We  have  met  with  some  notable  rubs  al¬ 
ready,  and  what  are  yet  behind  we  know  not;  but  for 
the  most  part  we  find  it  true  that  has  been  talked  of  of 
old,  A  good  man  must  suffer  trouble. 

Contr.  You  talk  of  rubs;  what  rubs  have  you  met 
with  ? 


Hon.  Nay,  ask  Mr.  Great-heart,  our  guide;  for  he 
can  give  the  best  account  of  that. 

Great,  he  have  been  beset  three  or  four  times  a!- 


334  TALK  ABOUT  THE  CONFLICTS  OF  CHRISTIANS. 

ready.  First,  Christiana  and  her  children  were  beset 
by  two  ruffians,  who  they  feared  would  take  away  their 
lives.  We  were  beset  by  Giant  Bloody-man,  Giant 
Maul,  and  Giant  Slay-good.  Indeed,  we  did  rather 
beset  the  last  than  were  beset  by  him.  And  thus  it 
was :  after  we  had  been  some  time  at  the  house  ot 
Gaius  mine  host,  and  of  the  whole  church,  we  were 
minded  upon  a  time  to  take  our  weapons  with  us,  and 
go  see  if  we  could  light  upon  any  of  those  that  were 
enemies  to  pilgrims ;  for  we  heard  that  there  was  a 
notable  one  thereabouts.  Now  Gaius  knew  his  haunt 
better  than  I,  because  he  dwelt  thereabout.  So  we 
looked,  and  looked,  till  at  last  we  discerned  the  mouth 
of  his  cave :  then  we  were  glad,  and  plucked  up  our 
spirits.  So  we  approached  up  to  his  den ;  and  lo, 
when  we  came  there,  he  had  dragged,  by  mere  force, 
into  his  net,  this  poor  man,  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  and  was 
about  to  bring  him  to  his  end.  But  when  he  saw  us, 
supposing,  as  we  thought,  he  had  had  another  prey,  he 
left  the  poor  man  in  his  hole,  and  came  out.  So  we 
fell  to  it  full  sore,  and  he  lustily  laid  about  him ;  but, 
in  conclusion,  he  was  brought  down  to  the  ground,  and 
his  head  was  cut  off,  and  set  up  by  the  way-  side,  for  a 
terror  to  such  as  should  after  practise  such  ungodli¬ 
ness.  That  I  tell  you  the  truth,  here  is  the  man  him¬ 
self  to  affirm  it,  who  was  as  a  lamb  taken  out  of  the 
mouth  of  the  lion. 

Feeble.  Then  said  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  I  found  this 
true,  to  my  cost  and  comfort :  to  my  cost,  when  he 
threatened  to  pick  my  bones  every  moment ;  and  to 
my  comfort,  when  I  saw  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his 
friends,  with  their  weapons,  approach  so  near  for  my 
deliverance. 

Holy.  Then  said  Mr.  Holy-man.  There  are  two 


CONVERSATION  OF  THE  PILGRIMS. 


33d 


things  that  they  have  need  to  possess  Mr  Holy-man*! 
who  go  on  pilgrimage ;  courage,  and  an  speech, 
unspotted  life.  If  they  have  not  courage,  they  can 
never  hold  on  their  way  j  and  if  their  lives  be  loose, 
they  will  make  the  very  name  of  a  pilgrim  stink. 

Love.  Then  said  Mr.  Love-saints,  I  hope  this  cau¬ 
tion  is  not  needful  among  you:  but  Mr. Love-saint.* 
truly  there  are  many  that  go  upon  the  *Peech- 
road,  who  rather  declare  themselves  strangers  to  pil¬ 
grimage  than  strangers  and  pilgrims  on  earth. 

Dare.  Then  said  Mr.  Dare-not-lie,  5Tis  true.  They 
have  neither  the  pilgrim’s  weed,  nor  the  Mr#  Dare-not- 
pilgrim’s  courage;  they  go  not  uprightly,  Iie’s  ^ech. 
but  all  awry  with  their  feet ;  one  shoe  goeth  inward, 
another  outward ;  and  their  hosen  are  torn ;  there  is 
here  a  rag,  and  there  a  rent,  to  the  disparagement  of 
their  Lord. 

Pen.  These  things,  said  Mr.  Penitent,  they  ought  to 
be  troubled  for;  nor  are  the  pilgrims  Mr.  Penitent,8 
like  to  have  that  grace  upon  them  and  sPeech- 
their  Pilgrim’s  Progress  as  they  desire,  until  the  way 
is  cleared  of  such  spots  and  blemishes.  Thus  they  sat 
talking  and  spending  the  time  until  supper  was  set 
upon  the  table,  unto  which  they  went,  and  refreshed 
their  weary  bodies:  so  they  retired  to  rest. 

Now  they  staid  in  the  fair  a  great  while,  at  the  house 
of  Mr.  Mnason,  who  in  process  of  time  gave  his  daugh¬ 
ter  Grace  unto  Samuel,  Christiana’s  son,  to  wife,  and 
his  daughter  Martha  to  Joseph. 

The  time,  as  I  said,  that  they  stayed  here,  was  long, 
for  it  was  not  now  as  in  former  times.  Wherefore  the 
pilgrims  grew  acquainted  with  many  of  the  good  peo¬ 
ple  of  the  town,  and  did  them  what  service  they  could. 
Mercy,  as  she  was  wont,  labored  much  for  the  poor: 


336 


THE  MONSTER  RETREATS. 


A  monster. 


wherefore  their  bellies  and  backs  blessed  her,  and  she 
was  there  an  ornament  to  her  profession.  And,  to  say 
the  truth,  for  Grace,  Phebe,  and  Martha,  they  were  all 
of  a  very  good  nature,  and  did  much  good  in  their 
places.  They  were  also  all  of  them  very  fruitful ;  so 
that  Christian’s  name,  as  was  said  before,  was  like  to 
live  in  the  world. 

While  they  lay  here  there  came  a  monster  out  of 
the  woods,  and  slew  many  of  the  people 
of  the  town.  It  would  also  carry  away 
their  children,  and  teach  them  to  suck  its  whelps. 
Now  no  man  in  the  town  durst  so  much  as  face  this 
monster  j  but  all  fled  when  they  heard  the  noise  of  his 
coming. 

The  monster  was  like  unto  no  one  beast  on  the  earth. 

,  Its  body  was  like  a  dragon,  and  it  had 

His  shape.  .  ,  .  , 

seven  heads  and  ten  horns.  It  made 
great  havoc  of  children,  and  yet  it  was  governed  by  a 
woman,  Rev.  17 :  3.  This  monster  propounded  con- 
t  ditions  to  men,  and  such  men  as  loved 
their  lives  more  than  their  souls  ac¬ 
cepted  of  those  conditions.  So  they  came  under. 

Now  Mr.  Great-heart,  together  with  those  who  came 
to  visit  the  pilgrims  at  Mr.  Mnason’s  house,  entered 
into  a  covenant  to  go  and  engage  this  beast,  i’f  perhaps 
they  might  deliver  the  people  of  this  town  from  the 
paws  and  mouth  of  this  so  devouring  a  serpent. 

Then  did  Mr.  Great-heart,  Mr.  Contrite,  Mr.  Holy- 
man,  Mr.  Dare-not-lie,  and  Mr.  Penitent,  with  their 
weapons,  go  forth  to  meet  him.  Now  the  monster  at 
first  was  very  rampant,  and  looked  upon  these  enemies 
with  great  disdain ;  but  they  so  bela¬ 
bored  him,  being  sturdy  men  at  arms, 
that  they  made  him  make  a  retreat :  so  they  came  home 
to  Mr.  Mnason’s  house  again. 


How  he  is  engaged. 


THE  PILGRIMS  LEAVE  VANITY  PAIR.  337 

The  monster,  you  must  know,  had  his  certain  sea¬ 
sons  to  come  out  in,  and  to  make  his  attempts  upon 
the  children  of  the  people  of  the  town.  At  these  sea¬ 
sons  did  these  valiant  worthies  watch  him,  and  did  still 
continually  assault  him ;  insomuch  that  in  process  of 
time  he  became  not  only  wounded,  but  lame.  Also  he 
has  not  made  that  havoc  of  the  townsmens5  children 
as  formerly  he  had  done ;  and  it  is  verity  believed  by 
some,  that  this  beast  will  die  of  his  wounds. 

This,  therefore,  made  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  fellows 
of  great  fame  in  this  town ;  so  that  many  of  the  people 
that  wanted  their  taste  of  things,  yet  had  a  reverent 
esteem  and  respect  for  them.  Upon  this  account, 
therefore,  it  was,  that  these  pilgrims  got  not  much  hurt 
here.  True,  there  were  some  of  the  band*  sort  that 
could  see  no  more  than  a  mole,  nor  understand  any 
more  than  a  beast ;  these  had  no  reverence  for  these 
men,  and  took  no  notice  of  their  valor  and  adventures. 

Well,  the  time  grew  on  that  the  pilgrims  must  go 
on  their  way ;  wherefore  they  prepared  for  their 
journey.  They  sent  for  their  friends  ;  they  conferred 
with  them ;  they  had  some  time  set  apart  therein  to 
commit  each  other  to  the  protection  of  their  Prince. 
There  were  again  that  brought  them  of  such  things 
as  they  had,  that  were  fit  for  the  weak  and  the  strong, 
for  the  women  and  the  men,  and  so  laded  them  with 
such  things  as  were  necessary,  Acts,  28:  10.  Then 
they  set  forward  on  their  way  ;  and  their  friends  ac¬ 
companying  them  so  far  as  it  was  convenient,  they 
again  committed  each  other  to  the  protection  of  their 
King,  and  departed. 

They  therefore  that  were  of  the  pilgrims’  company 
went  on,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  went  before  them.  Now 
the  women  and  children  being  weakly,  they 

29 


were 


338 


THE  HILL  LUCRE. 


forced  to  go  as  they  could  bear;  by  which  means  Mr. 
Ready-to-halt  and  Mr.  Feeble-mind  had  more  to  sym¬ 
pathize  with  their  condition. 

When  they  were  gone  from  the  townsmen,  and 
when  their  friends  had  bid  them  farewell,  they  quick¬ 
ly  came  to  the  place  where  Faithful  was  put  to  death. 
Therefore  they  made  a  stand,  and  thanked  Him  that 
had  enabled  him  to  bear  his  cross  so  well ;  and  the 
rather,  because  they  now  found  that  they  had  a  bene¬ 
fit  by  such  manly  sufferings  as  his  were. 

They  went  on  therefore  after  this  a  good  way  further, 
talking  of  Christian  and  Faithful,  and  how  Hopeful 
joined  himself  to  Christian  after  that  Faithful  was  dead. 

Now  the]r  were  come  up  with  the  hill  Lucre,  where 
the  silver  mine  was  which  took  Demas  off  his  pil¬ 
grimage,  and  into  which,  as  some  think,  By-ends  fell 
and  perished  ;  wherefore  they  considered  that.  But 
when  they  were  come  to  the  old  monument  that  stood 
over  against  the  hill  Lucre,  to  wit,  to  the  pillar  of 
salt,  that  stood  also  within  view  of  Sodom  and  its 
stinking  lake,  they  marvelled,  as  did  Christian  before, 
that  men  of  that  knowledge  and  ripeness  of  wit  as 
they  were,  should  be  so  blind  as  to  turn  aside  here. 
Only  they  considered  again,  that  nature  is  not  affected 
with  the  harms  that  others  have  met  with,  especially  if 
that  thing  upon  which  they  look  has  an  attracting 
virtue  upon  the  foolish  eye. 

I  saw  now  that  they  went  on  till  they  came  to  the 
river  that  was  on  this  side  of  the  Delectable  Moun¬ 
tains  ;  to  the  river  where  the  fine  trees  grow  on  both 
sides,  and  whose  leaves,  if  taken  inwardly,  are  good 
against  surfeits  :  where  the  meadows  are  green  all  the 
year  long;  and  where  they  might  lie  down  safely, 
Psalm  23:  2. 


THE  HOUSE  FOR  LAMBS. 


339 


By  this  river  side,  in  the  meadows,  there  were 
cotes  and  folds  for  sheep,  and  a  house  built  for  the 
nourishing  and  bringing  up  of  those  lambs,  the  babes 
of  those  women  that  go  on  pilgrimage.  Also  there 
was  here  one  that  was  intrusted  with  them,  who 
could  have  compassion ;  and  that  could  gather  these 
lambs  with  his  arm,  and  carry  them  in  his  bosom,  and 
gently  lead  those  that  were  with  young,  Heb.  5:2;  Isa. 
40:  11.  Now  to  the  care  of  this  man  Christiana  ad¬ 
monished  her  four  daughters  to  commit  their  little 
ones,  that  by  these  waters  they  might  be  housed,  har¬ 
bored,  succored,  and  nourished,  and  that  none  of 
them  might  be  lacking  in  time  to  come.  This  man,  if 
any  of  them  go  astray,  or  be  lost,  he  will  bring  them 
again;  he  will  also  bind  up  that  which  was  broken, 
and  will  strengthen  them  that  are  sick,  Jer.  23:  4; 
Ezek.  34:  11 — 16.  Here  they  will  never  want  meat, 
drink,  and  clothing ;  here  they  will  be  kept  from 
thieves  and  robbers ;  for  this  man  will  die  before  one 
of  those  committed  to  his  trust  shall  be  lost.  Besides, 
here  they  shall  be  sure  to  have  good  nurture  and  ad¬ 
monition,  and  shall  be  taught  to  walk  in  right  paths, 
and  that  you  know  is  a  favor  of  no  small  account. 
Also  here,  as  you  see,  are  delicate  waters,  pleasant 
meadows,  dainty  flowers,  variety  of  trees,  and  such 
as  bear  wholesome  fruit;  fruit,  not  like  that  which 
Matthew  ate  of,  that  fell  over  the  wall  out  of  Beelze¬ 
bub’s  garden;  but  fruit  that  procureth  health  where 
there  is  none,  and  that  continueth  and  increaseth  it 
where  it  is.  So  they  were  content  to  commit  their 
little  ones  to  him;  and  that  which  was  also  an  en¬ 
couragement  to  them  so  to  do,  was,  for  that  all  this 
was  to  be  at  the  charge  of  the  King,  and  so  was  as  an 
hospital  for  young  children  and  orphans. 


340  THE  STILE  LEADING  TO  BY-PATH  MEADOW. 

Now  they  went  on.  And  when  they  were  come  to 

They  beinff  come  By-path  meadow,  to  the  stile  over  which 
jo  By-Path  stile,  Christian  went  with  his  fellow  Hopeful, 

have  a  mind  to  have  ,  ,,  .  ,  r  7 

a  pluck  with  Giant  when  they  were  taken  by  Giant  Des- 

Despair.  pair  and  put  into  Doubting-castle,  they 

sat  down,  and  consulted  what  was  best  to  be  done :  to 

wit,  now  that  they  were  so  strong,  and  had  got  such 

a  man  as  Mr.  Great-heart  for  their  conductor,  whether 

they  had  not  best  to  make  an  attempt  upon  the  giant, 

demolish  his  castle,  and  if  there  were  any  pilgrims  in 

it,  to  set  them  at  liberty  before  they  went  any  further. 

So  one  said  one  thing,  and  another  said  the  contrary. 

One  questioned  if  it  was  lawful  to  go  upon  unconse- 

crated  ground ;  another  said  they  might,  provided 

their  end  was  good  ;  but  Mr.  Great-heart  said,  Though 

that  assertion  offered  last  cannot  be  universally  true, 

yet  I  have  a  commandment  to  resist  sin,  to  overcome 

evil,  to  fight  the  good  fight  of  faith:  and  I  pray,  with 

whom  should  I  fight  this  good  fight,  if  not  with  Giant 

Despair  ?  I  will  therefore  attempt  the  taking  away  of 

his  life,  and  the  demolishing  of  Doubting-castle.  Then 

said  he,  Who  will  go  with  me  ?  Then  said  old  Honest, 

I  will.  And  so  will  we  too,  said  Christiana’s  four 

sons,  Matthew,  Samuel,  Joseph,  and  James  ;  for  they 

were  young  men  and  strong,  1  John,  2 :  13,  14.  So 

they  left  the  women  in  the  road,  and  with  them  Mr. 

Feeble-mind,  and  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  with  his  crutches, 

to  be  their  guard,  until  they  came  back ;  for  in  that 

place,  though  Giant  Despair  dwelt  so  near,  they,  keep 

ing  in  the  road,  a  little  child  might  lead  them,  Isa.  11:6. 

So  Mr.  Great-heart,  old  Honest,  and  the  four  young 
men,  went  to  go  up  to  Doubting-castle,  to  look  for 
Giant  Despair.  When  they  came  at  the  castle  gate 
they  knocked  for  entrance  with  an  unusual  noise.  At 


GIANT  DESPAIR  KILLED. 


341 


that  the  old  giant  comes  to  the  gate,  and  Diffidence  his 
wife  follows.  Then  said  he,  Who  and  what  is  he  that 
is  so  hardy,  as  after  this  manner  to  molest  the  Giant 
Despair?  Mr.  Great-heart  replied,  It  is  I,  Great-heart, 
one  of  the  King  of  the  celestial  country’s  conductors 
of  pilgrims  to  their  place ;  and  I  demand  of  thee  that 
thou  opeh  thy  gates  for  my  entrance  :  prepare  thyself 
also  to  fight,  for  I  am  come  to  take  away  thy  head,  and 
to  demolish  Doubting-castle. 

Now  Giant  Despair,  because  he  was  a  giant,  thought 
no  man  could  overcome  him :  and  again  Despair  has  over¬ 
thought  he,  Since  heretofore  I  have  made  come  angels* 
a  conquest  of  angels,  shall  Great-heart  make  me  afraid ; 
So  he  harnessed  himself,  and  went  out.  He  had  a  cap 
of  pteel  upon  his  head,  a  breast-plate  of  fire  girded  to 
him,  and  he  came  out  in  iron  shoes,  with  a  great  club 
in  his  hand.  Then  these  six  men  made  up  to  him,  and 
beset  him  behind  and  before  :  also,  when  Diffidence  the 
giantess  came  up  to  help  him,  old  Mr.  Honest  cut  her 
down  at  one  blow.  Then  they  fought  for  their  lives, 
and  Giant  Despair  was  brought  down  to  the  ground, 
but  was  very  loth  to  die.  He  struggled  Despair  is  loth  to 
hard,  and  had,  as  they  say,  as  many  die- 
lives  as  a  cat;  but  Great-heart  was  his  death,  for  he 
left  him  not  till  he  had  severed  his  head  from  his 
shoulders. 

Then  they  fell  to  demolishing  Doubting-castle,  and 

that  you  know  might  with  ease  be  done,  Doubting-castle 
since  Giant  Despair  was  dead.  They  demolished. 

were  seven  days  in  destroying  of  that;  and  in  it  of  pil¬ 
grims  they  found  one  Mr.  Despondency,  almost  starved 
to  death,  and  one  Much-afraid,  his  daughter :  these  two 
they  saved  alive.  But  it  would  have  made  you  won¬ 
der  to  have  seen  the  dead  bodies  that  lay  here  and 

29* 


342 


DOUBTING-CASTLE  DESTROYED. 


there  in  the  castle  yard,  and  how  full  of  dead  men’s 
bones  the  dungeon  was. 

When  Mr.  Great-heart  and  his  companions  had  per¬ 
formed  this  exploit,  they  took  Mr.  Despondency,  and 
his  daughter  Much-afraid,  into  their  protection;  for 
they  were  honest  people,  though  they  were  prisoners 
in  Doubting-castle  to  that  tyrant  Giant  Despair.  They, 
therefore,  f  say,  took  with  them  the  head  of  the  giant, 
(for  his  body  they  had  buried  under  a  heap  of  stones,) 
and  down  to  the  road  and  to  their  companions  they 
came,  and  showed  them  what  they  liad  done.  Now 
when  Feeble-mind  and  Ready-to-halt  saw  that  it  was 
the  head  of  Giant  Despair  indeed,  they  were  very  jo- 

They  have  music  cund  and  merry.  Now  Christiana,  if 
and  dancing  for  joy.  need  wag)  could  play  upon  the  violj  ^ 

her  daughter  Mercy  upon  the  lute  :  so  since  they  were 
so  merry  disposed,  she  played  them  a  lesson,  and 
Ready-to-halt  would  dance.  So  he  took  Despondency’s 
daughter,  Much-afraid,  by  the  hand,  and  to  dancing 
they  went  in  the  road.  True,  he  could  not  dance  with¬ 
out  one  crutch  in  his  hand,  but  1  promise  you  he  footed 
it  well :  also  the  girl  was  to  be  commended,  for  she 
answered  the  music  handsomely. 

As  for  Mr.  Despondency,  the  music  was  not  so  much 
to  him ;  he  was  for  feeding,  rather  than  dancing,  for 
that  he  was  almost  starved.  So  Christiana  gave  him 
some  of  her  bottle  of  spirits  for  present  relief,  and 
then  prepared  him  something  to  eat;  and  in  a  little 
time  the  old  gentleman  came  to  himself,  and  began  to 
be  finely  revived. 

%  Now  1  saw  in  my  dream,  when  all  these  things  were 
finished,  Mr.  Great-heart  took  the  head  of  Giant  Des¬ 
pair,  and  set  it  upon  a  pole  by  the  highway  j>de,  right 
over  against  the  pillar  that  Christian  erected  for  a  cau- 


THE  DELECTABLE  MOUNTAINS.  343 

tion  to  pilgrims  that  came  after,  to  take  heed  of  enter¬ 
ing  into  his  grounds. 

Then  he  writ  under  it  upon  a  marble  stone  these 
verses  following : 

This  is  the  head  of  him  whose  name  only 
In  former  times  did  pilgrims  terrify. 

His  castle’s  down,  and  Diffidence  his  wife 
Brave  Mr.  Great-heart  has  bereft  of  life. 

Despondency,  his  daughter  Much-afraid, 

Great-heart  for  them  also  the  man  has  play’d. 

Who  hereof  doubts,  if  he’ll  but  cast  his  eye 
Up  hither,  may  his  scruples  satisfy. 

This  head  also,  when  doubting  cripples  dance, 

Doth  show  from  fears  they  have  deliverance. 

When  these  men  had  thus  bravely  showed  them¬ 
selves  against  Doubting-castle,  and  had  slain  Giant 
Despair,  they  went  forward,  and  went  on  till  they  came 
to  the  Delectable  Mountains,  where  Christian  and 
Hopeful  refreshed  themselves  with  the  varieties  of  the 
place.  They  also  acquainted  themselves  with  the 
Shepherds  there,  who  welcomed  them,  as  they  had 
done  Christian  before,  unto  the  Delectable  Mountains. 

Now  the  Shepherds  seeing  so  great  a  train  follow  Mr. 
Great-heart,  (for  with  him  they  were  well  acquainted,) 
they  said  unto  him,  Good  sir,  you  have  got  a  goodly 
company  here  ;  pray  where  did  you  find  all  these  ? 

Then  Mr.  Great-heart  replied : — 

First,  here  is  Christiana  and  her  train, 

Her  sons,  and  her  sons’  wives,  who  like  the  wain, 

Keep  by  the  pole,  and  do  by  compass  steer 
From  sin  to  grace,  else  they  had  not  been  here. 

Next  here’s  old  Honest  come  on  pilgrimage, 

Ready-to-Halt  too,  who  I  dare  engage 
True-hearted  is,  and  so  is  Feeble-mind, 

Who  willing  was  no  to  be  left  behind. 

Despondency,  good  man,  is  coming  after, 

And  so  also  is  Much-afraid,  his  daughter. 

May  we  have  entertainment  here,  or  must 
We  further  go  1  Let’s  know  whereon  to  trust. 


344 


THE  DELECTABLE  MOUNTAINS. 


Then  said  the  Shepherds,  This  is  a  comfortable 
company.  You  are  welcome  to  us;  for  we  have  for 

Their  entertain-  the  feeble,  as  well  as  for  the  strong. 
meut-  Our  Prince  has  an  eye  to  what  is  done 

to  the  least  of  these ;  therefore  infirmity  must  not  be 
a  block  to  our  entertainment,  Matt.  25 :  40.  So  they 
had  them  to  the  palace  door,  and  then  said  unto  them, 
Come  in,  Mr.  Feeble-mind ;  come  in,  Mr.  Ready-to- 
halt ;  come  in,  Mr.  Despondency,  and  Mrs.  Much- 
afraid  his  daughter.  These,  Mr.  Great-heart,  said  the 
Shepherds  to  the  guide,  we  call  in  by  name,  for  that 
they  are  most  subject  to  draw  back;  but  as  for  you, 
and  the  rest  that  are  strong,  we  leave  you  to  your 
wonted  liberty.  Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  This  day 
I  see  that  grace  doth  shine  in  your  faces,  and  that  you 

a  description  of  are  my  Lord’s  shepherds  indeed  :  for 
false  Shepherds.  y0U  }iaVe  not  pushed  these  diseased 

neither  with  side  nor  shoulder,  but  have  rather  strew¬ 
ed  their  way  into  the  palace  with  flowers,  as  you 
should,  Ezek.  34  :  21. 

So  the  feeble  and  weak  went  in,  and  Mr.  Great- 
heart  and  the  rest  did  follow.  When  they  were  also 
set  down  the  Shepherds  said  to  those  of  the  weaker 
sort,  What  is  it  that  you  would  have  ?  for,  said  they, 
all  things  must  be  managed  here  for  the  supporting  of 
the  weak,  as  well  as  to  the  warning  of  the  unruly.  So 
they  made  them  a  feast  of  things  easy  of  digestion, 
and  that  were  pleasant  to  the  palate,  and  nourishing ; 
the  which  when  they  had  received,  they  went  to  their 
rest,  each  one  respectively  unto  his  proper  place. 

When  morning  was  come,  because  the  mountains 
were  high  and  the  day  clear,  and  because  it  was  the 
custom  of  the  Shepherds  to  show  the  pilgrims  before 
their  departure  some  rarities,  therefore  after  they  were 


MOUNT  MARVEL. — MOUNT  INNOCENCE.  345 

ready,  and  had  refreshed  themselves,  the  Shepherds 
took  them  out  into  the  fields,  and  showed  them  first 
what  they  had  shown  to  Christian  before. 

Then  they  had  them  to  some  new  places.  The 
first  was  Mount  Marvel,  where  they 

,  ,  ,  .  ,  ,  . .  Mount  Marvel. 

looked,  and  beheld  a  man  at  a  distance 
that  tumbled  the  hills  about  with  words.  Then  they 
asked  the  Shepherds  what  that  should  mean.  So  they 
told  them,  that  that  man  was  the  son  of  one  Mr. 
Great-grace,  of  whom  you  read  in  the  first  part  of  the 
records  of  the  Pilgrim’s  Progress ;  and  he  is  set  there 
to  teach  pilgrims  how  to  believe  down,  or  to  tumble 
out  of  their  ways,  what  difficulties  they  should  meet 
with,  by  faith,  Mark,  11 :  23,  24.  Then  said  Mr.  Great- 
heart,  I  know  him,  he  is  a  man  above  many. 

Then  they  had  them  to  another  place,  called  Mount 
Innocence.  And  there  they  saw  a  man  „ 

,  ,  ,  ,, .  .  .  ,  •  Mount  Innocenca. 

clothed  all  in  white ;  and  two  men,  Preju¬ 
dice  and  Ill-will  continually  casting  dirt  upon  him.  Now 
behold,  the  dirt,  whatsoever  they  cast  at  him,  would  in 
a  little  time  fall  off  again,  and  his  garment  would  look 
as  clear  as  if  no  dirt  had  been  cast  thereat.  Then  said 
the  pilgrims,  What  means  this  ?  The  Shepherds  an¬ 
swered,  This  man  is  named  Godly-man,  and  this  gar¬ 
ment  is  to  show  the  innocency  of  his  life.  Now  those 
that  throw  dirt  at  him  are  such  as  hate  his  well-do¬ 
ing  ;  but,  as  you  see,  the  dirt  will  not  stick  upon  his 
clothes,  so  it  shall  be  with  him  that  liveth  innocently 
in  the  world.  Whoever  they  be  that  would  make 
such  men  dirty,  they  labor  all  in  vain ;  for  God,  by 
that  a  little  time  is  spent,  will  cause  that  their  inno¬ 
cence  shall  break  forth  as  the  light,  and  their  right¬ 
eousness  as  the  noon  day. 


346  MOUNT  CHARITY. — FOOL  AND  WANT-WIT. 


Then  they  took  them,  and  had  them  to  mount  Cha- 
„  .  rity,  where  they  showed  them  a  man 

Mount  Chanty.  ,  ,  ,  ,  „  „  ,  ,  ,  .  ,  ,, 

that  had  a  bundle  of  cloth  lying  before 
him,  out  of  which  he  cut  coats  and  garments  for  the 
poor  that  stood  about  him ;  yet  his  bundle  or  roll  of 
cloth  was  never  the  less.  Then  said  they,  What  should 
this  be?  This  is,  said  the  Shepherds,  to  show  you, 
that  he  who  has  a  heart  to  give  of  his  labor  to  the 
poor,  shall  never  want  wherewithal.  He  that  watereth, 
shall  be  watered  himself.  And  the  cake  that  the  widow 
gave  to  the  prophet  did  not  cause  that  she  had  the  less 
in  her  barrel. 

They  had  them  also  to  the  place  where  they  saw 
„„  ,  „  one  Fool,  and  one  Want-wit,  washing 

The  work  of  one  _  ,  .  \  .  ,  .  .  ’  /  .  ° 

Fool  and  one  an  Ethiopian,  with  an  intention  to  make 
Want-wit.  him  white ;  but  the  more  they  washed 

him  the  blacker  he  was.  Then  they  asked  the  Shep¬ 
herds  what  that  should  mean.  So  they  told  them,  say¬ 
ing,  Thus  it  is  with  the  vile  person ;  all  means  used  to 
get  such  a  one  a  good  name,  shall,  in  conclusion,  tend 
but  to  make  him  more  abominable.  Thus  it  was  with 
the  pharisees;  and  so  it  shall  be  with  all  hypocrites. 

Then  said  Mercy,  the  wife  of  Matthew,  to  Chris- 

Mercy  has  a  mind  tiana  her  mother,  Mother,  I  would,  if  it 
to  see  the  hole  in  might  be,  see  the  hole  in  the  hill,  or  that 
commonly  called  the  by-way  to  hell. 
So  her  mother  brake  her  mind  to  the  Shepherds.  Then 
they  went  to  the  door;  it  was  on  the  side  of  an  hill; 
and  they  opened  it,  and  bid  Mercy  hearken  a-while. 
So  she  hearkened,  and  heard  one  saying,  Cursed  be 
my  father  for  holding  of  my  feet  back  from  the  way 
of  peace  and  life.  Another  said,  Oh,  that  I  had  been 
torn  in  pieces  before  I  had,  to  save  my  life,  lost  my 
soul!  And  another  said,  If  I  were  to  live  again,  how 


MERCY  LONGS  FOR  A  LOOKING-GLASS.  347 

would  l  deny  myself  rather  than  come  to  this  place ! 
Then  there  was  as  if  the  very  earth  groaned  and 
quaked  under  the  feet  of  this  young  woman  for  fear ; 
so  she  looked  white,  and  came  trembling  away,  saying, 
Blessed  be  he  and  she  that  is  delivered  from  this  place ! 

Now  when  the  Shepherds  had  shown  them  all  these 
things,  then  they  had  them  back  to  the  palace,  and  en¬ 
tertained  them  with  what  the  house  would  afford.  But 
Mercy,  being  a  young  and  married  woman,  longed  for 
something  that  she  saw  there,  but  was  Mercy longetb,  and 
ashamed  to  ask.  Her  mother-in-law  then  for  what- 
asked  her  what  she  ailed,  for  she  looked  as  one  not 
well.  Then  said  Mercy,  There  is  a  looking-glass  hangs 
up  in  the  dining-room,  off  which  I  cannot  take  my 
mind;  if,  therefore,  I  have  it  not,  I  think  I  shall  mis¬ 
carry.  Then  said  her  mother,  I  will  mention  thy  wants 
to  the  Shepherds,  and  they  will  not  deny  it  thee.  But 
she  said,  I  am  ashamed  that  these  men  should  know 
that  I  longed.  Nay,  my  daughter,  said  she,  it  is  no 
shame,  but  a  virtue,  to  long  for  such  a  thing  as  that. 
So  Mercy  said,  Then,  mother,  if  you  please,  ask  the 
Shepherds  if  they  are  willing  to  sell  it. 

Now  the  glass  was  one  of  a  thousand.  It  would  pre¬ 
sent  a  man,  one  way,  with  his  own  fea-  It  was  lhe  word 
tures  exactly ;  and  turn  it  but  another  ofGod- 
way,  and  it  would  show  one  the  very  face  and  simili¬ 
tude  of  the  Prince  of  pilgrims  himself.  Yes,  I  have 
talked  with  them  that  can  tell,  and  they  have  said  that 
they  have  seen  the  very  crown  of  thorns  upon  his 
head  by  looking  in  that  glass ;  they  have  therein  also 
seen  the  holes  in  his  hands,  his  feet,  and  his  side.  Yea, 
such  an  excellency  is  there  in  this  glass,  that  it  will 
show  him  to  one  where  they  have  a  mind  to  see  him ; 
whether  living  or  dead ;  whether  in  earth  or  in  heaven; 


343 


THE  GIFTS  OF  THE  SHEPHERDS. 


whether  in  a  state  of  humiliation  or  in  his  exaltation  , 
whether  coming  to  suffer  or  coming  to  reign,  James, 
1  :  23 ;  1  Cor.  13  :  12 ;  2  Cor.  3  :  18. 

Christiana  therefore  went  to  the  Shepherds  apart : 
now  the  names  of  the  Shepherds  were  Knowledge, 
Experience,  Watchful,  and  Sincere,  and  said  unto  them, 
There  is  one  of  my  daughters,  a  married  woman,  that 
I  think  doth  long  for  something  that  she  hath  seen  in 
this  house ;  and  she  thinks  that  she  shall  miscarry  if 
she  should  by  you  be  denied. 

Experience.  Call  her,  call  her,  she  shall  assuredly 
have  what  we  can  help  her  to.  So  they  called  her,  and 
said  to  her,  Mercy,  what  is  that  thing  thou  wouldst 
have?  Then  she  blushed,  and  said,  The  great  glass 
that  hangs  up  in  the  dining-room.  So  Sincere  ran  and 
she  doth  not  lose  fetched  it,  and  with  a  joyful  consent  it 
her  longing.  was  given  her.  Then  she  bowed  her 
head,  and  gave  thanks,  and  said,  By  this  I  know  that  I 
have  obtained  favor  in  your  eyes. 

They  also  gave  to  the  other  young  women  such 
things  as  they  desired,  and  to  their  husbands  great 
commendations,  for  that  they  had  joined  with  Mr. 
Great-heart  in  the  slaying  Giant  Despair,  and  the  de¬ 
molishing  of  Doubting-castle. 

About  Christiana’s  neck  the  Shepherds  put  a  brace- 

How  the  Shep  ail(^  S0  ^id  a^0llt  n6Cks 

herds  adorn  the  of  her  four  daughters ;  also  they  put 
pilgrims.  ear-rings  in  their  ears,  and  jewels  on 

their  foreheads. 

When  they  were  minded  to  go  hence,  they  let  them 
go  in  peace,  but  gave  not  to  them  those  certain  cau¬ 
tions  which  before  were  given  to  Christian  and  his 
companion.  The  reason  was,  for  that  these  had  Great- 
heart  to  be  their  guide,  who  was  one  that  was  well  ac- 


ONE  TURN-AWAY. 


349 


quainted  with  things,  and  so  could  give  them  their  cau¬ 
tions  more  seasonably,  to  wit,  even  when  the  danger 
was  nigh  the  approaching.  What  cautions  Christian 
and  his  companion  had  received  of  the  Shepherds, 
they  had  also  lost  by  that  the  time  was  come  that  they 
had  need  to  put  them  in  practice.  Wherefore,  here  was 
the  advantage  that  tiiis  company  had  over  the  other. 

From  thence  they  went  on  singing,  and  they  said, 

Behold  how  fitly  are  the  stages  set 
For  their  relief  that  pilgrims  are  become, 

And  how  they  us  receive  without  one  let, 

That  make  the  other  life  our  mark  and  home  ! 

What  novelties  they  have  to  us  they  give, 

That  we,  though  pilgrims,  joyful  lives  may  live. 

They  do  upon  us  too,  such  things  bestow, 

That  show  we  pilgrims  are  where'er  we  go. 

When  they  were  gone  from  the  Shepherds  they 
quickly  came  to  the  place  where  Christian  met  with 
one  Turn-away  that  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Apostacy. 
Wherefore  of  him  Mr.  Great-heart  their  guide  did  now 
put  them  in  mind,  saying,  This  is  the  place  where 
Christian  met  with  one  Turn-away,  who  carried  with 
him  the  character  of  his  rebellion  at  liis  back.  And 
this  I  have  to  say  concerning  this  man ;  he  would 
hearken  to  no  counsel,  but  once  a  falling,  persuasion 
could  not  stop  him.  When  he  came  to  the  place  where 
the  cross  and  sepulchre  were,  he  did  H 
meet  with  one  that  bid  him  look  there  j  away  managed  ms 
but  he  gnashed  with  his  teeth,  and  aP°stac>'- 
stamped,  and  said  he  was  resolved  to  go  back  to  his 
own  town.  Before  he  came  to  the  gate  he  met  with 
Evangelist,  who  offered  to  lay  hands  on  him,  to  turn 
him  into  the  way  again  ;  but  this  Turn-away  resisted 

30 


350 


VALIANT-FOR-TRUTK  ASSAILED. 


him,  and  having  done  much  despite  unto  him,  he  got 
away  over  the  wall,  and  so  escaped  liis  hand. 

Then  they  went  on;  and  just  at  the  place  where 
Little-faith  formerly  was  robbed,  there  stood  a  man 
with  his  sword  drawn,  and  his  face  all  over  with  blood. 
Then  said  Mr.  Great-heart,  Who  art  thou  ?  The  man 
made  answer,  saying,  I  am  one  whose  name  is  Valiant* 
for-truth.  I  am  a  pilgrim,  and  am  going  to  the  Celes- 
^  „  tial  City.  Now,  as  I  was  in  my  way, 

truth  be*et  with  there  were  three  men  did  beset  me,  and 
thieves.  propounded  unto  me  these  three  things : 

1.  Whether  I  would  become  one  of  them.  2.  Or  go 
back  from  whence  I  came.  3.  Or  die  upon  the  place, 
Prov.  1 :  11—14.  To  the  first  I  answered,  I  had  been 
a  true  man  for  a  long  season,  and  therefore  it  could  not 
be  expected  that  I  should  now  cast  in  my  lot  with 
thieves.  Then  they  demanded  what  I  would  say  to 
the  second.  So  I  told  them  the  place  from  whence  1 
came,  had  I  not  found  incommodity  there,  I  had  not 
forsaken  it  at  all ;  but  finding  it  altogether  unsuitable 
to  me,  and  very  unprofitable  for  me,  I  forsook  it  for 
this  way.  Then  they  asked  me  what  I  said  to  the 
third.  And  I  told  them  my  life  cost  far  more  dear  than 
that  I  should  lightly  give  it.  away.  Besides,  you  have 
nothing  to  do  thus  to  put  things  to  my  choice ;  where¬ 
fore  at  your  peril  be  it  if  you  meddle.  Then  these 
three,  to  wit,  Wild-head,  Inconsiderate,  and  Prag- 
matick,  drew  upon  me,  and  I  also  drew  upon  them 
So  we  fell  to  it,  one  against  three,  for  the  space  of 
above  three  hours.  They  have  left  upon  me,  as  you 
see,  some  of  the  marks  of  their  valor,  and  have  also 
carried  away  with  them  some  of  mine.  They  are  but 
just  now  gone:  I  suppose  they  might,  as  the  saying  is, 
hear  your  horse  dash,  and  so  they  betake  themselves 
to  flight. 


HIS  VICTORY. — HIS  SWORD. 


851 


Great.  But  here  was  great  odds,  three  against  one. 

Valiant.  ’Tis  true ;  but  little  or  more  are  nothing  to 
him  that  has  the  truth  on  his  side :  “  Though  an  host 
should  encamp  against  me.”  said  one,  Psalm  27  :  3, 
“  my  heart  shall  not  fear :  though  war  shall  rise  against 
me,  in  this  will  I  be  confident,”  &c.  Besides,  said  he, 
I  have  read  in  some  records  that  one  man  has  fought 
an  army  :  and  how  many  did  Samson  slay  with  the 
jaw-bone  of  an  ass ! 

Great.  Then  said  the  guide,  Why  did  you  not  cry 
out,  that  some  might  have  come  in  for  your  succor? 

Valiant.  So  I  did  to  my  King,  who  I  knew  could 
hear  me,  and  afford  invisible  help,  and  that  was  suffi¬ 
cient  for  me. 

Great.  Then  said  Great-heart  to  Mr.  Valiant-for- 
truth,  thou  hast  worthily  behaved  thyself;  let  me  see 
thy  sword.  So  he  showed  it  him. 

When  he  had  taken  it  in  his  hand,  and  looked 
thereon  a  while,  he  said,  Ha !  it  is  a  right  Jerusalem 
blade. 

Valiant.  It  is  so.  Let  a  man  have  one  of  these 
blades,  with  a  hand  to  wield  it,  and  skill  to  use  it,  and 
he  may  venture  upon  an  angel  with  it.  He  need  not 
fear  its  holding,  if  he  can  but  tell  how  to  lay  on.  Its 
edge  will  never  blunt.  It  will  cut  flesh  and  bones,  and 
soul  and  spirit,  and  all,  Heb.  4 :  12. 

Great.  But  you  fought  a  great  while ;  I  wonder  you 
was  not  weary. 

Valiant.  I  fought  till  my  sword  did  cleave  to  my 
hand ;  and  then  they  were  joined  toge¬ 
ther  as  if  a  sword  grew  out  of  my  arm  ;  The  S.' 
and  when  the  blood  ran  through  my  fin-  BloocL 
gers,  then  I  fought  with  most  courage. 

Great.  Thou  hast  done  well ;  thou  hast  resisted 


352 


TALK  OF  VALIANT  AND  GREAT-HEART. 


unto  blood,  striving  against  sin.  Thou  shalt  abide  by 
us,  come  in  and  go  out  with  ns ;  for  we  are  thy  com¬ 
panions.  Then  took  they  him  and  washed  his  wounds, 
and  gave  him  of  what  they  had,  to  refresh  him:  and 
so  they  went  together. 

Now  as  they  went  on,  because  Mr.  Great-heart  was 
delighted  in  him,  (for  he  loved  one  greatly  that  he 
found  to  be  a  man  of  his  hands,)  and  because  there 
were  in  company  them  that  were  feeble  and  weak, 
therefore  he  questioned  with  him  about  many  things ; 
as  first,  what  countryman  he  was. 

Valiant.  I  am  of  Dark-land ;  for  there  I  was  born, 
and  there  my  father  and  mother  are  still. 

Great.  Dark-land  !  said  the  guide ;  doth  not  that 
lie  on  the  same  coast  with  the  City  of  Destruction  1 

Valiant.  Yes,  it  doth.  Now  that  which  caused  me 
„  ,,  to  come  on  pilgrimage  was  this.  We 

came  to  go  on  pii-  had  one  Mr.  Tell-true  come  into  our 
grimage.  parts,  and  he  told  it  about  what  Christian 

had  done,  that  went  from  the  City  of  Destruction ; 
namely,  how  he  had  forsaken  his  wife  and  children, 
and  had  betaken  himself  to  a  pilgrim’s  life.  It  was 
also  confidently  reported  how  he  had  killed  a  serpent 
that  did  come  out  to  resist  him  in  his  journey;  and 
how  he  got  through  to  whither  he  intended.  It  wa3 
also  told  what  welcome  he  had  at  all  his  Lord’s  lodg¬ 
ings,  especially  when  he  came  to  the  gates  of  the  Ce¬ 
lestial  City ;  for  there,  said  the  man,  he  was  received 
with  sound  of  trumpet  by  a  company  of  shining  ones. 
He  told  also  how  all  the  bells  in  the  city  did  ring  for 
joy  at  his  reception,  and  what  golden  garments  he  was 
clothed  with  ;  with  many  other  things  that  now  I  shall 
forbear  to  relate.  In  a  word,  that  man  so  told  the 
story  of  Christian  and  his  travels  that  my  heart  fell 


TALK  OF  VALIANT  AND  GREAT-HEART. 


353 


He  begins  right. 


into  a  burning  haste  to  be  gone  after  him ;  nor  could 
father  or  mother  stay  me.  So  I  got  from  them,  and  am 
come  thus  far  on  my  way. 

Great.  You  came  in  at  the  gate,  did  you  not? 

Valiant.  Yes,  yes;  for  the  same  man  also  told  us, 
that  all  would  be  nothing  if  we  did  not 
begin  to  enter  this  way  at  the  gate. 

Great.  Look  you,  said  the  guide  to  Christiana,  the 
pilgrimage  of  your  husband,  with  what  Christian’*  name 
he  has  gotten  thereby,  is  spread  abroad  famous- 
far  and  near. 

Valiant.  Why,  is  this  Christian’s  wife  ? 

Great.  Yes,  that  it  is;  and  these  also  are  his  four 
sons. 

Valiant.  What,  and  going  on  pilgrimage  too? 

Great.  Yes,  verily,  they  are  following  after. 

Valiant.  It  glads  me  at  the  heart.  Good  man,  how 
joyful  will  he  be  when  he  shall  see  them  „  . 

°  *  fjg  jg  much  re- 

that  would  not  go  with  him,  yet  to  enter  joiccdtoseeChris- 
after  him  in  at  the  gates  into  the  Celes-  tian’s  Wlfe- 
tial  City. 

Great.  Without  doubt  it  will  be  a  comfort  to  him ; 
for  next  to  the  joy  of  seeing  himself  there,  it  will  be  a 
joy  to  meet  there  his  wife  and  children. 

Valiant.  But  now  jmu  are  upon  that,  pray  let  me 
hear  your  opinion  about  it.  Some  make  a  question 
whether  we  shali  know  one  another  when  we  are  there. 

Great.  Do  you  think  they  shall  know  themselves 
then,  or  that  they  shall  rejoice  to  see  themselves  in  that 
bliss?  and  if  they  think  they  shall  know  and  do  this, 
why  not  know  others,  and  rejoice  in  their  welfare 
also  ?  Again,  since  relations  are  our  second  self, 
though  that  state  will  be  dissolved  there,  yet  why  may 
it  not  be  rationally  concluded  that  we  shall  be  more 

30* 


354 


TALK  OF  VALIANT  AND  GREAT-HEART. 


glad  to  see  them  there  than  to  see  they  are  wanting? 

Valiant.  Well,  I  perceive  whereabouts  you  are  as 
to  this.  Have  you  any  more  things  to  ask  me  about  my 
beginning  to  come  on  pilgrimage? 

Great.  Yes;  were  your  father  and  mother  willing 
that  you  should  become  a  pilgrim  ? 

Valiant.  O  no  ;  they  used  all  means  imaginable  to 
persuade  me  to  stay  at  home. 

Great.  Why,  what  could  they  say  against  it? 

Valiant.  They  said  it  was  an  idle  life ;  and  if  I  my- 

The  great  stum-  self  were  not  inclined  to  sloth  and  lazi- 

byhfsfHends were  ness>  I  would  never  countenance  a  pil- 
laid  in  his  way.  grim’s  condition. 

Great.  And  what  did  they  say  else  ? 

Valiant.  Why,  they  told  me  ihat  it  was  a  dangerous 
way ;  yea,  the  most  dangerous  way  in  the  world,  said 
they,  is  that  which  the  pilgrims  go. 

Great.  Did  they  show  you  wherein  this  way  is  so 
dangerous  ? 

Valiant.  Yes;  and  that  in  many  particulars. 

Great.  Name  some  of  them. 

Valiant.  They  told  me  of  the  Slough  of  Despond, 

The  first  stum-  where  Christian  was  well  nigh  smo- 
biing-biock.  thered.  They  told  me  that  there  were 
archers  standing  ready  in  Beelzebub-castle  to  shoot 
them  who  should  knock  at  the  Wicket-gate  for  en¬ 
trance.  They  told  me  also  of  the  wood  and  dark  moun¬ 
tains  ;  of  the  hill  Difficulty ;  of  the  lions ;  and  also  of 
the  three  giants,  Bloody-man,  Maul,  and  Slay-good. 
They  said,  moreover,  that  there  was  a  foul  fiend 
haunted  the  Valley  of  Humiliation ;  and  that  Christian 
was  by  him  almost  bereft  of  life.  Besides,  said  they, 
you  must  go  over  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death, 
where  the  hobgoblins  are,  where  the  light  is  darkness, 


TALK  OF  VALIANT  AND  GREAT-HEART. 


355 


The  second. 


where  the  way  is  full  of  snares,  pits,  traps,  and  gins. 
They  told  me  also  of  giant  Despair,  of  Doubting-castle, 
and  of  the  ruin  that  the  pilgrims  met  with  there.  Fur¬ 
ther,  they  said  I  must  go  over  the  Enchanted  Ground, 
which  was  dangerous ;  and  that  after  all  this  I  should 
find  a  river,  over  which  there  was  no  bridge;  and 
that  that  river  did  lie  betwixt  me  and  the  Celestial 
Country. 

Great.  And  was  this  all  ? 

Valiant.  No.  They  also  told  me  that  this  way  was 
full  of  deceivers,  and  of  persons  that 
lay  in  wait  there  to  turn  good  men  out 
of  the  path. 

Great.  But  how  did  they  make  that  out  ? 

Valiant.  They  told  me  that  Mr.  Worldly-wiseman 
did  lie  there  in  wait  to  deceive.  They  said  also,  that 
there  were  Formality  and  Hypocrisy  continually  on 
the  road.  They  said  also,  that  By-ends,  Talkative,  or 
Demas,  would  go  near  to  gather  me  up  ;  that  the 
Flatterer  would  catch  me  in  his  net ;  or  that,  with 
green-headed  Ignorance,  I  would  presume  to  go  on  to 
the  gate,  from  whence  he  was  sent  back  to  the  hole 
that  was  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  made  to  go  the 
by-way  to  hell. 

Great.  I  promise  you  this  was  enough  to  dis¬ 
courage  you  ;  but  did  they  make  an  end  here  ? 

Valiant.  No,  stay.  They  told  me  also  of  many  that 
had  tried  that  way  of  old,  and  that  had 
gone  a  great  way  therein,  to  see  if  they 
could  find  something  of  the  glory  there  that  so  many 
had  so  much  talked  of  from  time  to  time,  and  how 
they  came  back  again,  and  befooled  themselves  for 
setting  a  foot  out  of  doors  in  that  path,  to  the  satisfac¬ 
tion  of  the  country.  And  they  named  several  that  did 


The  third. 


356 


TALK  OF  VALIANT  AND  GREAT-HEART. 


so,  as  Obstinate  and  Pliable,  Mistrust  and  Timorous, 
Turn-away,  and  old  Atheist,  with  several  more  j  who, 
they  said,  had  some  of  them  gone  far  to  see  what  they 
could  find,  but  not  one  of  them  had  found  so  much 
advantage  by  going  as  amounted  to  the  weight  of  a 
feather. 

Great.  Said  they  anything  more  to  discourage  you  l 
V  aliant.  Yes.  They  told  me  of  one  Mr.  leaiing, 
who  was  a  pilgrim,  and  how  he  found 
The  fourth.  hig  way  g0  so]itary  that  he  never  had 

a  comfortable  hour  therein ;  also,  that  Mr.  Despon¬ 
dency  had  like  to  have  been  starved  therein :  yea,  and 
also  (which  I  had  almost  forgot)  that  Christian  him¬ 
self,  about  whom  there  has  been  such  a  noise,  after  all 
his  adventures  for  a  celestial  crown,  was  certainly 
drowned  in  the  Black  River,  and  never  went  a  foot 
further  ;  however  it  was  smothered  up. 

Great.  And  did  none  of  these  things  discourage 


you  ? 

Valiant.  No  ;  they  seemed  but  as  so  many  nothings 
to  me. 


Great.  How  came  that  about  ? 

„  .  ,  Valiant.  Why,  I  still  believed  what 

over  these  stuiub-  Mr.  Tell-true  had  said  5  and  that  earned 
hug  blocks.  me  beyond  them  all. 


Great.  Then  this  was  your  victory,  even  your 


faith. 

Valiant.  It  was  so.  I  believed,  and  therefore  came 


out,  got  into  the  way,  fought  all  that  set  themselves 
against  me,  and,  by  believing,  am  come  to  this  place. 


Who  would  true  valor  see, 

Let  him  come  hither  ; 

One  here  will  constant  be, 
Come  wind,  come  weather  j 


THE  PILGRIM’S  SONG. 


357 


There’s  no  discouragement] 

Shall  make  him  once  relent 
His  first  avow’d  intent 

To  be  a  pilgrim. 

Whoso  beset  him  round 
With  dismal  stories, 

Do  but  themselves  confound  ; 

His  strength  the  more  is. 

No  lion  can  him  fright, 

He’ll  with  a  giant  fight, 

But  he  will  have  aright 

To  be  a  pilgrim. 

Hobgoblin  nor  foul  fiend 
Can  daunt  his  spirit ; 

He  knows  he  at  the  end 
Shall  life  inherit. 

Then  fancies  fly  away, 

He’ll  not  fear  what  men  say  ; 

He’ll  labor  night  and  day 

To  be  a  pilgrim. 

By  this  time  they  were  got  to  the  Enchanted 
Ground,  where  the  air  naturally  tended  to  make  one 
drowsy.  And  that  place  was  all  grown  over  with 
briers  and  thorns,  excepting  here  and  there,  where 
was  an  enchanted  arbor,  upon  which  if  a  man  sits,  or 
in  which  if  a  man  sleeps,  it  is  a  question,  some  say, 
whether  ever  he  shall  rise  or  wake  again  in  this 
world.  Over  this  forest,  therefore,  they  went  both 
one  and  another,  and  Mr.  Great-heart  went  before,  for 
that  he  was  the  guide;  and  Mr.  Valiant-for-truthcame 
behind,  being  rear-guard,  for  fear  lest  peradventure 
some  fiend,  or  dragon,  or  giant,  or  thief,  should  fall 
upon  their  rear,  and  so  do  mischief.  They  went  on 
here,  each  man  with  his  sword  drawn  in  his  hand ; 
for  they  knew  it  was  a  dangerous  place.  Also  they 
cheered  up  one  another  as  well  as  they  could.  Feeble- 
mind,  Mr.  Great-heart  commanded  should  come  up 


358 


THE  ENCHANTED  GROUND. 


after  him  ;  and  Mr.  Despondency  was  under  the  eye 
of  Mr.  Valiant. 

Now  they  had  not  gone  far,  but  a  great  mist  and 
darkness  fell  upon  them  ail ;  so  that  they  could 
scarce,  for  a  great  while,  the  one  see  the  other. 
Wherefore  they  were  forced,  for  some  time,  to  feel  for 
one  another  by  words ;  for  they  walked  not  by  sight. 
But  any  one  must  think,  that  here  was  but  sorry  going 
lor  the  best  of  them  all;  but  how  much  worse  for  the 
women  and  children,  who  both  of  feet  and  heart  were 
but  tender  !  Yet  so  it  was,  that  through  the  encourag¬ 
ing  words  of  him  that  led  in  the  front,  and  of  him 
that  brought  them  up  behind,  they  made  a  pretty  good 
shift  to  wag  along. 

The  way  was  also  here  very  wearisome,  through 
dirt  and  slabbiness.  Nor  was  there,  on  all  this 
ground,  so  much  as  one  inn  or  victualling-house 
wherein  to  refresh  the  feebler  sort.  Here,  therefore, 
was  nothing  but  grunting,  and  puffing,  and  sighing, 
while  one  tumbleth  over  a  bush,  another  sticks  fast  in 
the  dirt,  and  the  children,  some  of  them,  lost  their 
shoes  in  the  mire  ;  while  one  cries  out,  I  am  down  ; 
and  another,  Ho,  where  are  you  ?  and  a  third,  The 
bushes  have  got  such  fast  hold  on  me  I  think  I  can¬ 
not  get  away  from  them. 

Then  they  came  at  an  arbor,  warm,  and  promising 

An  arbor  on  the  much  refreshing  to  the  pilgrims  ;  for  it 
enchanting  ground.  wag  fine]y  wr0Ught  above  head,  beauti¬ 
fied  with  greens,  furnished  with  benches  and  settles. 
It  also  had  in  it  a  soft  couch,  whereon  the  weary  might 
lean.  This,  you  must  think,  all  things  considered, 
was  tempting ;  for  the  pilgrims  already  began  to  be 
foiled  with  the  badness  of  the  way  :  but  there  was  not 
one  of  them  that  made  so  much  as  a  motion  to  stop 


THE  ARBOR. — THE  MAP. 


359 

there.  Yea,  for  aught  I  could  perceive,  they  contimv- 
ally  give  so  good  heed  to  the  advice  of  their  guide,  and 
he  did  so  faithfully  tell  them  of  dangers,  and  of  the 
nature  of  the  dangers  when  they  were  at  them,  that 
usually  when  they  were  nearest  to  them,  they  did  most 
pluck  up  their  spirits,  and  hearten  one  another  to  deny 
the  flesh.  This  arbor  was  called  The  The  name  of  the 
Slothful’s  Friend,  and  was  made  on  pur-  arbor* 
pose  to  allure,  if  it  might  be  some  of  the  pilgrims 
there  to  take  up  their  rest,  when  weary. 

I  saw  then  in  my  dream,  that  they  went  on  in  this 
their  solitary  ground  till  they  came  to  The  way  difficult 
a  place  at  which  a  man  is  apt  to  lose  his  t0  find* 
way.  Now,  though  when  it  was  light  their  guide 
could  well  enough  tell  how  to  miss  those  ways  that  led 
wrong,  yet  in  the  dark  he  was  put  to  a  stand.  But  he 
had  in  his  pocket  a  map  of  all  ways  The  guide  has  & 
leading  to  or  from  the  celestial  city ;  “Jptf 
wherefore  he  struck  a  light,  (for  he 
never  goes  without  his  tinder-box  also,)  and  takes  a 
view  of  his  book  or  map,  which  bids  him  to  be  careful 
in  that  place  to  turn  to  the  right  hand.  And  had  he 
not  been  careful  here  to  look  in  his  map,  they  had  all, 
in  probability,  been  smothered  in  the  mud  ;  for  just  a 
little  before  them,  and  that  at  the  end  of  the  cleanest 
way  too,  was  a  pit,  none  knows  how  deep,  full  of  no¬ 
thing  but  mud,  there  made  on  purpose  to  destroy  the 
pilgrims  in. 

Then  thought  I  with  myself,  Who  that  goeth  on 
pilgrimage  but  would  have  one  of  these  „  ,  , 
maps  abouthim,  that  he  may  look,  when 
he  is  at  a  stand,  which  is  the  way  he  must  take. 

then  they  went  on  in  this  Enchanted  Ground  fill 
they  came  to  where  there  was  another  . 

,  .  .  ,  .  An  arbor,  and  tv o 

arbor,  and  it  was  built  by  the  highway-  to  therein. 


360  HEEDLESS  AND  TOO-BOLD  ASLEEP. 

side.  And  in  that  arbor  there  lay  two  men,  whose  names 
wepe  Heedless  and  Too-bold.  These  two  went  thus  iar 
on  pilgrimage ;  but  here,  being  wearied  with  their  jour¬ 
ney,  they  sat  down  to  rest  themselves,  and  so  fell  fast 
asleep.  When  the  pilgrims  saw  them,  they  stood  still, 
and  shook  their  heads  ;  for  they  knew  that  the  sleep¬ 
ers  were  in  a  pitiful  case.  Then  they  consulted  what 
to  do,  whether  to  go  on  and  leave  them  in  their  sleep, 
or  to  step  to  them  and  try  to  awake  them;  so  they 
concluded  to  go  to  them  and  try  to  awake  them ;  that 
is,  if  they  could  ;  but  with  this  caution,  namely,  to 
take  heed  that  they  themselves  did  not  sit  down  nor 
embrace  the  offered  benefit  of  that  arbor. 

So  they  went  in,  and  spake  to  the  men,  and  called 
each  by  his  name,  for  the  guide,  it  seems,  The  pilgrims  try 
did  know  them  ;  but  there  was  no  voice  t0  avvake  th«m* 
nor  answer.  Then  the  guide  did  shake  them,  and  do 
what  he  could  to  disturb  them.  Then  said  one  of 
them,  1  will  pay  you  when  I  take  my  money.  At 
which  the  guide  shook  his  head.  I  will  fight  so  long 
as  I  can  hold  my  sword  in  my  band,  said  the  other. 
At  that,  one  of  the  children  laughed. 

Then  said  Christiana,  What  is  the  meaning  of  this? 
The  guide  said,  T.  hey  talk  in  their  sleep.  Their  endcaver 
If  you  strike  them,  beat  them,  or  what- is  fruille8s* 
ever  else  you  do  to  them,  they  will  answer  you  after 
this  fashion ;  or  as  one  of  them  said  in  old  time,  when 
the  waves  of  the  sea  did  beat  upon  him,  and  he  slept 
as  one  upon  the  mast  of  a  ship,  Prov.  23 : 34, 35.  When 
shall  I  awake?  I  will  seek  it  yet  again.  You  know 
when  men  talk  in  their  sleep  they  say  any  thing ;  and 
their  words  are  not  governed,  either  by  faith  or  reason. 
There  is  an  incoherency  in  their  words  now,  as  there 
was  before  betwixt  their  going  on  pilgrimage  and  sit- 


THE  ENCHANTED  GROUND.  361 

ting  down  here.  This,  then,  is  the  mischief  of  it:  when 
heedless  ones  go  on  pilgrimage  ’tis  twenty  to  one  but 
they  are  served  thus.  For  this  Enchanted  Ground  is 
one  of  the  last  refuges  that  the  enemy  to  pilgrims  has; 
wherefore  it  is,  as  you  see,  placed  almost  at  the  end  of 
the  way,  and  so  it  standeth  against  us  with  the  more 
advantage.  For  when,  thinks  the  enemy,  will  these 
fools  be  so  desirous  to  sit  down  as  when  they  are  wea¬ 
ry  ?  and  when  so  like  to  be  weary  as  when  almost  at 
their  journey’s  end  ?  Therefore  it  is,  I  say,  that  the 
Enchanted  Ground  is  placed  so  nigh  to  the  land  Beu¬ 
lah,  and  so  near  the  end  of  their  race.  Wherefore  let 
pilgrims  look  to  themselves,  lest  it  happen  to  them  as 
it  has  done  to  these  that,  as  you  see,  are  fallen  asleep, 
and  none  can  awake  them. 

Then  the  pilgrims  desired,  with  trembling,  to  go  for¬ 
ward  ;  only  they  prayed  their  guide  to  strike  a  light, 
that  they  might  go  the  rest  of  their  way  by  the  help  of 
the  light  of  a  lantern.  So  they  struck  a  light,  and  they 
went  by  the  help  of  that  through  the  The  light  of  the 
rest  of  this  way,  though  the  darkness  word- 
was  very  great,  2  Pet.  1 :  19.  But  the  children  began 
to  be  sorely  weary,  and  they  cried  out  The  children  cry 
unto  Him  that  loveth  pilgrims  to  make  for  weariness. 

their  way  more  comfortable.  So  by  that  they  had  gone 
a  little  further  a  wind  arose  that  drove  away  the  fog, 
so  the  air  became  more  clear.  Yet  they  were  not  off 
(by  much)  of  the  Enchanted  Ground;  only  now  they 
could  see  one  another,  and  the  way  wherein  they 
should  walk. 

Now,  when  they  were  almost  at  the  end  of  this 
ground,  they  perceived  that  a  little  before  them  was  a 
solemn  noise  as  of  one  that  was  much  concerned.  So 
they  went  on,  and  looked  before  them :  and  behold 

31 


362 


STANDFAST  JOINS  THEM. 


„  ,  ,  they  saw,  as  they  thought,  a  man  upon 

ais  knees  in  the  En-  his  knees,  with  hands  and  eyes  lilted  up, 
chanted  Ground.  and  Speaking}  as  they  thought,  earnestly 

to  one  that  was  above.  They  drew  nigh,  but  could  not 
tell  what  he  said ;  so  they  went  softly  till  he  had  done. 
When  he  had  done  he  got  up,  and  began  to  run  to¬ 
ward  the  Celestial  City.  Then  Mr.  Great-heart  called 
after  him,  saying,  Soho,  friend !  let  us  have  your  com¬ 
pany,  if  you  go,  as  I  suppose  you  do,  to  the  Celestial 
City.  So  the  man  stopped,  and  they  came  up  to  him. 
But  as  soon  as  Mr.  Honest  saw  him  he  said,  I  know 
this  man.  Then  said  Mr.  Valiant-for-truth,  Pry  thee, 
who  is  it  ?  It  is  one,  said  he,  that  comes  from  where- 

The  story  of  about  I  dwelt.  His  name  is  Standfast ; 
standfast.  he  js  certainly  a  right  good  pilgrim. 

So  they  came  up  one  to  another ;  and  presently 
Standfast  said  to  old  Honest,  Ho,  father  Honest,  are  you 

Talk  betwixt  him  there?  Ay,  said  he,  that  I  am,  as  sure 
and  3ir.  Honest.  ag  y0U  are  there.  Right  glad  am  I,  said 

Mr.  Standfast,  that  I  have  found  you  on  this  road.  And 
as  glad  am  I,  said  the  other,  that  I  espied  you  on  your 
knees.  Then  Mr.  Standfast  blushed,  and  said,  But 
why,  did  you  see  me  ?  Yes,  that  I  did,  quoth  the  other, 
and  with  my  heart  was  glad  at  the  sight.  Why,  what 
did  you  think?  said  Standfast.  Think!  said  old  Ho¬ 
nest;  what  should  I  think  ?  I  thought  we  had  an  honest 
man  upon  the  road,  and  therefore  should  have  his 
company  by  and  by.  If  you  thought  not  amiss,  said 
Standfast,  how  happy  am  I !  But  if  I  be  not  as  I  should, 
’tis  I  alone  must  bear  it.  That  is  true,  said  the  other  ; 
but  your  fear  doth  further  confirm  me  that  things  are 
right  betwixt  the  Prince  of  pilgrims  and  your  soul. 
For  he  saith,  “  Blessed  is  the  man  that  feareth  always,” 
Prov.  28:  14. 


WHY  STANDFAST  PRAYS. 


363 


Valiant.  Well  but,  brother,  I  pray  thee  tell  us  what 
was  it  that  was  the  cause  of  thy  being  They  found},!,,, 
upon  thy  knees  even  now ;  was  it  for  at  Prayer- 
that  some  special  mercy  laid  obligations  upon  thee,  or 
how  ? 

Stand.  Why,  we  are,  as  you  see,  upon  the  En¬ 
chanted  Ground  ;  and  as  I  was  coming  „T1 

,  T  .  .  .  ,  „  „  ,  What  it  was  that 

along,  I  was  musing  with  myself  of  what  fetched  him  upon 
a  dangerous  nature  the  road  in  this  place  ,1IS  knees‘ 
was,  and  how  many  that  had  come  even  thus  far  on 
pilgrimage  had  here  been  stopped  and  been  destroyed. 
I  thought  also  of  the  manner  of  the  death  with  which 
this  place  destroyeth  men.  Those  that  die  here,  die 
of  no  violent  distemper :  the  death  which  such  die  is 
not  grievous  to  them.  For  he  that  goeth  away  in  a 
sleep,  begins  that  journey  with  desire  and  pleasure. 
Yea,  such  acquiesce  in  the  will  of  that  disease. 

Hon.  Then  Mr.  Honest  interrupting  him,  said,  Did 
you  see  the  two  men  asleep  in  the  arbor  ? 

Stand.  Ay,  ay,  I  saw  Heedless  and  Too-bold  there; 
and  for  aught  I  know,  there  they  will  lie  till  they  rot, 
Prov.  10  :  7.  But  let  me  go  on  with  my  tale.  As  I  was 
thus  musing,  as  I  said,  there  was  one  in  very  pleasant 
attire,  but  old,  who  presented  herself  to  me,  and  offered 
me  three  things,  to  wit,  her  body,  her  purse,  and  her 
bed.  Now  the  truth  is,  I  was  both  weary  and  sleepy . 
I  am  also  as  poor  as  an  owlet,  and  that  perhaps  the 
witch  knew.  Well,  I  repulsed  her  once  and  again,  but 
she  put  by  my  repulses,  and  smiled.  Then  I  began  to 
be  angry ;  but  she  mattered  that  nothing  at  all.  Then 
she  made  offers  again,  and  said  if  I  would  be  ruled  by 
her,  she  would  make  me  great  and  happy ;  for,  said 
she,  I  am  the  mistress  of  the  world,  and  men  are  made 
happy  by  me.  Then  I  asked  her  name,  and  she  told 


364 


MADAM  BUBBLE’S  TEMPTATIONS. 


Madam  Bubble,  or  me'U  was  Madam  Bubble.  This  set  me 
tin*  vain  world,  further  from  her ;  but  she  still  followed 
me  with  enticements.  Then  I  betook  me,  as  you  saw, 
to  my  knees,  and  with  hands  lifted  up,  and  cries,  I 
prayed  to  Him  that  had  said  he  would  help.  So  just 
as  you  came  up  the  gentle-woman  went  her  way.  Then 
I  continued  to  give  thanks  for  this  my  Great  deliver¬ 
ance  ;  for  I  verily  believe  she  intended  no  good,  but 
rather  sought  to  make  stop  of  me  in  my  journey. 

Hon.  Without  doubt  her  designs  were  bad.  But, 
stay,  now  you  talk  of  her,  methinks  I  either  have  seen 
her,  or  have  read  some  story  of  her. 

Stand.  Perhaps  you  have  done  both. 

Hon.  Madam  Bubble  !  Is  she  not  a  tall,  comely 
dame,  somewhat  of  a  swarthy  complexion? 

Stand.  Right,  you  hit  it:  she  is  just  such  a  one. 

Hon.  Doth  she  not  speak  very  smoothly,  and  give 
you  a  smile  at  the  end  of  a  sentence  ? 

Stand.  You  fall  right  upon  it  again,  for  these  are 
her  very  actions. 

Hon.  Doth  she  not  wear  a  great  purse  by  her  side, 
and  is  not  her  hand  often  in  it,  fingering  her  money,  as 
if  that  was  her  heart’s  delight? 

Stand.  ’Tis  just  so ;  had  she  stood  by  all  this  while 
you  could  not  more  amply  have  .set  her  forth  before 
me,  nor  have  better  described  her  features. 

Hon.  Then  he  that  drew  her  picture  was  a  good 
limner,  and  he  that  wrote  of  her  said  true. 

Great.  This  woman  is  a  witch,  and  it  is  by  virtue 
of  her  sorceries  that  this  ground  is  en- 

The  world.  .  ,  ,  T  .  .  .  . 

chanted,  whoever  doth  lay  his  head 
down  in  her  lap,  had  as  good  lay  it  down  on  that  block 
over  which  the  axe  doth  hang  ;  and  whoever  lay  their 
eyes  upon  her  beauty  are  counted  the  enemies  of  God. 


MADAM  BUBBLE’S  TEMPTATIONS.  365 

This  is  she  that  maintaineth  in  their  splendor  all  those 
that  are  the  enemies  of  pilgrims,  James,  4  :  4.  Yea, 
this  is  she  that  hath  bought  off  many  a  man  from  a  pil¬ 
grim’s  life.  She  is  a  great  gossiper;  she  is  always, 
both  she  and  her  daughters,  at  one  pilgrim’s  heels  or 
another,  now  commending,  and  then  preferring  the  ex¬ 
cellences  of  this  life.  She  is  a  bold  and  impudent  slut : 
she  will  talk  with  any  man.  She  always  laugheth  poor 
pilgrims  to  scorn,  but  highly  commends  the  rich.  If 
there  be  one  cunning  to  get  money  in  a  place,  she  will 
speak  well  of  him  from  house  to  house.  She  loveth 
banquetting  and  feasting  mainly  well ;  she  is  always 
at  one  full  table  or  another.  She  has  given  it  out  in 
some  places  that  she  is  a  goddess,  and  therefore  some 
do  worship  her.  She  has  her  time,  and  open  places 
of  cheating;  and  she  will  say  and  avow  it,  that  none 
can  show  a  good  comparable  to  hers.  She  promiseth 
to  dwell  with  children’s  children,  if  they  will  but  love 
her  and  make  much  of  her.  She  wrill  cast  out  of  her 
purse  gold  like  dust  in  some  places  and  to  some  per¬ 
sons.  She  loves  to  be  sought  after,  spoken  well  of,  and 
to  lie  in  the  bosoms  of  men.  She  is  never  weary  of 
commending  her  commodities,  and  she  loves  them 
most  that  thinks  best  of  her.  She  will  promise  to  some 
crowns  and  kingdoms  if  they  will  but  take  her  advice; 
yet  many  hath  she  brought  to  the  halter,  and  ten  thou¬ 
sand  times  more  to  hell. 

Stand.  Oh  !  said  Standfast,  what  a  mercy  is  it  that  I 
drd  resist  her;  for  whither  might  she  have  drawn  me ! 

Great.  Whither  ?  nay,  none  but  God  knows  whither. 
But  in  general,  to  be  sure,  she  would  have  drawn 
thee  into  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  which  drown 
men  in  destruction  and  perdition,  1  Tim.  6  :  9.  ’Twas 
she  that  set  Absalom  against  his  father,  and  Jeroboam 

31* 


366 


THE  LAND  OF  BEULAH. 


against  his  master.  ’Tvvas  she  that  persuaded  Judas 
to  sell  his  Lord ;  and  that  prevailed  with  Demas  to 
forsake  the  godly  pilgrim’s  life.  None  can  tell  of  the 
mischief  that  she  doth.  She  makes  variance  betwixt 
rulers  and  subjects,  betwixt  parents  and  children,  be¬ 
twixt  neighbor  and  neighbor,  betwixt  a  man  and  his 
wife,  betwixt  a  man  and  himself,  betwixt  the  flesh  and 
the  spirit.  Wherefore,  good  Mr.  Standfast,  be  as  your 
name  is,  and  when  you  have  done  all,  stand. 

At  this  discourse  there  was  among  the  pilgrims  a 
mixture  of  joy  and  trembling;  but  at  length  they  broke 
out  and  sang : 

What  danger  is  the  pilgrim  in ! 

How  many  are  his  foes! 

How  many  ways  there  are  to  sin 
No  liviug  mortal  knows. 

Some  in  the  ditch  are  spoiled,  yea  can 
Lie  tumbling  in  the  mire  : 

Some,  though  they  shun  the  frying-pan. 

Do  leap  into  the  lire. 

After  this  I  beheld  until  they  were  come  into  the 
land  of  Beulah,  where  the  sun  shinetli  night  and  day. 
Here,  because  they  were  weary,  they  betook  them¬ 
selves  awhile  to  rest.  And  because  this  country  was 
common  for  pilgrims,  and  because  the  orchards  and 
vineyards  that  were  here  belonged  to  the  King  of  the 
celestial  country,  therefore  they  were  licensed  to  make 
bold  with  any  of  his  things.  But  a  little  while  soon  re¬ 
freshed  them  here ;  for  the  bells  did  so  ring,  and  the 
trumpets  continually  sounded  so  melodiously,  that 
they  could  not  sleep,  and  yet  they  received  as  much 
refreshing  as  if  they  had  slept  their  sleep  ever  so 
soundly.  Here  also  all  the  noise  of  them  that  walked 
the  streets  was,  More  pilgrims  are  come  to  town !  And 


THE  LAND  OF  BEULAH. 


367 


another  would  answer,  saying,  And  so  many  went  over 
the  water,  and  were  let  in  at  the  golden  gates  to-day ! 
They  would  cry  again,  There  is  now  a  legion  of  shin¬ 
ing  ones  just  come  to  town,  by  which  we  know  that 
there  are  more  pilgrims  upon  the  road ;  for  here  they 
come  to  wait  for  them,  and  to  comfort  them  after  their 
sorrow !  Then  the  pilgrims  got  up,  and  walked  to  and 
fro.  But  how  were  their  ears  now  filled  with  heavenly 
voices,  and  their  eyes  delighted  with  celestial  visions ! 
In  this  land  they  heard  nothing,  saw  nothing,  felt  no¬ 
thing,  smelt  nothing,  tasted  nothing  that  was  offensive 
to  their  stomach  or  mind ;  only  when  they  tasted  of 
the  water  of  the  river  over  which  they  ^  ,)itter  lo 
were  to  go,  they  thought  that  it  tasted  a  flesh,  but  sweet  to 
little  bitterish  to  the  palate ;  but  it  proved  thc  souL 
sweet  when  it  was  down. 

In  this  place  there  was  a  record  kept  of  the  names 
of  them  that  had  been  pilgrims  of  old,  and  a  history 
of  all  the  famous  acts  that  they  had  done.  It  was  here 
also  much  discoursed,  how  the  river  to  some  had  had 
ils  flowings,  and  what  ebbings  it  has  had  Death  hM  cb. 
while  others  have  gone  over.  It  has  flings  and  flowings, 

.  r  i  M  ■ ,  like  the  lide. 

been  in  a  manner  dry  for  some,  while  it 
has  overflowed  its  banks  for  others. 

In  this  place  the  children  of  the  town  would  go  into 
the  King’s  gardens,  and  gather  nosegays  for  the  pil¬ 
grims,  and  bring  them  to  them  with  much  affection. 
Here  also  grew  camphire,  with  spikenard  and  saffron, 
calamus,  and  cinnamon,  with  all  the  trees  of  frankin¬ 
cense,  myrrh,  and  aloes,  with  all  chief  spices.  With 
these  the  pilgrims’  chambers  were  perfumed  while 
they  stayed  here;  and  with  these  were  their  bodies 
anointed,  to  prepare  them  to  go  over  the  river,  when 
the  time  appointed  was  come. 

31** 


368 


A  MESSENGER  TO  CHRISTIANA. 


His  message. 


Now  while  they  lay  here,  and  waited  for  the  good 
hour,  there  was  a  noise  in  the  town  that  there  was  a 
post  come  from  the  Celestial  City,  with  matter  of  great 
importance  to  one  Christiana,  the  wife 
death  sent  to  Chris-  of  Christian  the  pilgrim.  So  inquiry 
tlanu-  was  made  for  her,  the  house  was  found 

out  where  she  was.  So  the  post  presented  her  with 
a  letter.  The  contents  were,  Hail,  good 
woman ;  I  bring  thee  tidings  that  the 
Master  calleth  for  thee,  and  expects  that  thou  shonldst 
stand  in  his  presence  in  clothes  of  immortality  within 
these  ten  days. 

When  he  had  read  this  letter  to  her  he  gave  her 
therewith  a  sure  token  that  he  was  a  true  messenger, 
and  was  come  to  bid  her  make  haste  to  be  gone.  The 
token  was,  an  arrow  with  a  point  sharpened  with  love, 
let  easily  into  her  heart,  which  by  degrees  wrought  so 
effectually  with  her,  that  at  the  time  appointed  she 
must  be  gone. 

When  Christiana  saw  that  her  time  was  come,  and 

How  welcome  that  she  was  the  first  of  this  company 

fhat ^have ‘nothing  that  was  to  go  over,  she  called  for  Mr. 
to  do  but  to  die.  Great-heart  her  guide,  and  told  him 

how  matters  were.  So  he  told  her  he  was  heartily 
glad  of  the  news,  and  could  have  been  glad  had  the 
post  come  for  him.  Then  she  bid  him  that  he  should 
Her  speech  to  her  give  advice  how  all  things  should  be 
&uide-  prepared  for  her  journey.  So  he  told 

her,  saying,  Thus  and  thus  it  must  be,  and  we  that 
survive  will  accompany  you  to  the  river  side. 

Then  she  called  for  her  children,  and  gave  them  her 
m  blessing,  and  told  them  that  she  had 

read  with  comfort  the  mark  that  was  set 
in  their  foreheads,  and  was  glad  to  see  them  with  her 


CHRISTIANA  PREPARES  TO  GO. 


36a 


there,  and  that  they  had  kept  their  garments  so  white. 
Lastly,  she  bequeathed  to  the  poor  that  little  she  had, 
and  commanded  her  sons  and  daughters  to  be  ready 
against  the  messenger  should  come  for  them. 

When  she  had  spoken  these  words  to  her  guide,  and 
to  her  children,  she  called  for  Mr.  Va-  To  Mr<  VaJiant- 
liant-for-truth,  and  said  unto  him,  Sir,  for-truth. 
you  have  in  all  places  showed  yourself  true-hearted ; 
be  faithful  unto  death,  and  my  King  will  give  you  a 
crown  of  life,  Rev.  2  :  10.  I  would  also  entreat  you 
to  have  an  eye  to  my  children  ;  and  if  at  any  time  you 
see  them  faint,  speak  comfortably  to  them.  For  my 
daughters,  my  sons’  wives,  they  have  been  faithful, 
and  a  fulfilling  of  the  promise  upon 


But  she  gave 


To  Mr.  Standfast 


them  will  be  their  end. 

Mr.  Standfast  a  ring. 

Then  she  called  for  old  Mr.  Honest,  and  said  of  him, 
“  Behold  an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is 
no  guile !”  John,  1 :  47.  Then  said  he,  T°  °ld  IIonest- 
I  wish  you  a  fair  day  when  you  set  out  for  Mount 
Sion,  and  shall  be  glad  to  see  that  you  go  over  the 
river  dry-shod.  But  she  answered,  Come  wet,  come 
dry,  I  long  to  be  gone  ;  for  however  the  weather  is 
in  my  journey,  I  shall  have  time  enough  when  I  come 
there  to  sit  down  and  rest  me  and  dry  me. 

Then  came  in  that  good  man  Ready-to-halt  to  see 
her.  So  she  said  to  him,  Thy  travel  To  Mr.  Ready- 
liitherto  has  been  with  difficulty ;  but  t0’iialu 
that  will  make  thy  rest  the  sweeter.  Watch  and  be 
ready  ;  for  at  an  hour  when  ye  think  not,  the  messen  • 
ger  may  come. 

After  him  came  Mr.  Despondency  and  his  daughter 
Much-afraid,  to  whom  she  said,  You  „  „ 

’  ’  To  Mr.  Despoil- 

ought,  with  thankfulness,  for  ever  to  dency  and  his 

rememDer  your  deliverance  from  the  dau&!lter- 


370 


CHRISTIANA  PASSES  THE  RIVER. 


hands  of  giant  Despair,  and  out  of  Doubting-castle 
The  effect  of  that  mercy  is  that  you  are  brought  with 
safety  hither.  Be  ye  watchful,  and  cast  away  fear ; 
be  sober,  and  hope  to  the  end. 

Then  she  said  to  Mr.  Feeble-mind,  Thou  wast 
To  Mr.  Feeble-  delivered  from  the  mouth  of  giant  Siay- 
mind'  good,  that  thou  mightest  live  in  the  light 

of  the  living,  and  see  thy  King  with  comfort.  Only  I 
advise  thee  to  repent  of  thine  aptness  to  fear  and 
doubt  of  his  goodness,  before  he  sends  for  thee  ;  lest 
thou  shouldst,  when  he  comes,  be  forced  to  stand  be¬ 
fore  him  for  that  fault  with  blushing. 

Now  the  day  drew  on  that  Christiana  must  be  gone. 
Her  last  day,  and  So  the  road  was  full  of  people  to  see  her 
manner  of  depar-  take  jjer  journey.  But  behold,  all  the 

banks  beyond  the  river  were  full  of  horses  and  chari¬ 
ots,  which  were  come  down  from  above  to  accompany 
her  to  the  city  gate.  So  she  came  forth,  and  entered 

the  river,  with  a  beckon  of  farewell  to  those  that  fol- 

*  ♦ 

lowed  her.  The  last  words  that  she  was  heard  to  say 
were,  I  come,  Lord,  to  be  with  thee  and  bless  thee ! 
So  her  children  and  friends  returned  to  their  place, 
for  those  that  waited  for  Christiana  had  carried  her 
out  of  their  sight.  So  she  went  and  called,  and  enter¬ 
ed  in  at  the  gate  with  all  the  ceremonies  of  joy  that 
her  husband  Christian  had  entered  with  before  her. 
At  her  departure  the  children  wept.  But  Mr.  Great- 
heart  and  Mr.  Valiant  played  upon  the  well-tuned 
cymbal  and  harp  for  joy.  So  all  departed  to  their 
respective  places.  j 

In  process  of  time,  there  came  a  post  to  the  town 
Mr.Ready-to-halt  again,  and  his  business  was  with  Mr. 
summoned.  Ready-to-halt.  So  he  inquired  him  out, 
and  said,  I  am  come  from  Him  whom  thou  hast  loved 


Christiana  crossing  the  river. _ P-  370 


MR.  READY-TO-HALT  PASSES  THE  RIVER. 


371 


Promises. 
Ilis  will. 


and  followed,  though  upon  crutches  ;  and  iny  message 
is  to  tell  thee  that  he  expects  thee  at  his  table  to  sup 
with  him  in  his  kingdom,  the  next  day  after  Easter; 
wherefore  prepare  thyself  for  this  journey.  Then  he 
also  gave  him  a  token  that  he  was  a  true  messenger, 
saying,  “  I  have  broken  thy  golden  bowl,  and  loosed 
thy  silver  cord,”  Eecles.  12  :  6. 

After  this  Mr.  Ready-to-halt  called  for  his  fellow- 
pilgrims,  and  told  them,  saying,  I  am  sent  for,  and 
God  shall  surely  visit  you  also.  So  he  desired  Mr. 
Valiant  to  make  his  will.  And  because  he  had  nothing 
to  bequeath  to  them  that  should  survive  him  but  his 
crutches,  and  his  good  wishes,  therefore 
thus  he  said,  These  crutches  I  bequeath 
to  my  son,  that  shall  tread  in  my  steps, 
with  a  hundred  warm  wishes  that  he  may  prove  better 
than  I  have  been.  Then  he  thanked  Mr.  Great-heart 
for  his  conduct  and  kindness,  and  so  addressed  himself 
to  his  journey.  When  he  came  to  the  brink  of  the  river 
he  said,  Now  I  shall  have  no  more  need  of  these  crutches, 
since  yonder  are  chariots  and  horses  for  me  to  ride  on. 
The  last  words  he  was  heard  to  say  were, 

Welcome  life !  So  he  went  his  way. 

After  this  Mr.  Feeble  mind  had  tidings  brought  him 
that  the  post  sounded  his  horn  at  his  peebie-mind  sum- 
cb amber-door.  Then  he  came  in,  and  ,uonetJ- 
told  him,  saying,  I  am  come  to  tell  thee  that  thy 
Master  hath  need  of  thee,  and  that  in  a  very  little 
time  thou  must  behold  his  face  in  brightness.  And 
take  this  as  a  token  of  the  truth  of  my  message: 
“  Those  that  look  out  at  the  windows  shall  be  dark¬ 
ened,”  Eccles.  12:3.  Then  Mr.  Feeble-mind  called 
for  his  friends,  and  told  them  what  errand  had  been 
brought  unto  him,  and  what  token  he  had  received  of 


Ilis  last  words. 


372 


MR.  FEEBLE -MIND  DEPARTS. 


the  truth  of  the  message.  Then  he  said,  Since  I  have 
nothing  to  bequeath  to  any,  to  what  purpose  should 
•  ,  I  make  a  will  ?  As  for  my  feeble  mind, 

He  makes  no  will.  ,  .  ' 

that  I  will  leave  behind  me,  for  that  I 
shall  have  no  need  of  in  the  place  whither  I  go,  nor  is 
it  worth  bestowing  upon  the  poorest  pilgrims  ?  where¬ 
fore,  when  I  am  gone,  I  desire  that  you,  Mr.  Valiant, 
would  bury  it  in  a  dunghill.  This  done,  and  the  day 
being  come  on  which  he  was  to  depart,  he  entered  the 
4  .  river  as  the  rest.  His  last  words  were, 

His  last  words.  ’ 

Hold  out,  faith  and  patience!  So  he 
went  over  to  the  other  side. 

When  days  had  many  of  them  passed  away  Mr. 
Despondency  was  sent  for ;  for  a  post  was  come,  and 
Mr. Despondency  brought  this  message  to  him :  Trembling 
summoned.  man !  these  are  to  summon  thee  to  be 
ready  with  the  King  by  the  next  Lord’s  day,  to  shout 
for  joy  for  thy  deliverance  from  all  thy  doubtings. 
And,  said  the  messenger,  that  my  message  is  true,  take 
this  for  a  proof:  so  he  gave  him  a  grasshopper  to  be  a 
burden  unto  him,  Eccles.  12 :  5. 

Now  Mr.  Despondency’s  daughter,  whose  name  was 
His  daughter  Much-afraid,  said,  when  she  heard  what 
goes  too.  was  done,  that  she  would  go  with  her 

father.  Then  Mr.  Despondency  said  to  his  friends, 
Myself  and  my  daughter,  you  know  what  we  have 
been,  and  how  troublesomely  we  have  behaved  our¬ 
selves  in  every  company.  My  will  and  my  daughter’s 
is,  that  our  desponds  and  slavish  fears 
be  by  no  man  ever  received,  from  the 
day  of  our  departure,  for  ever  ;  for  I  know  that  after 
my  death  they  will  other  themselves  to  others.  For  to 
be  plain  with  you,  they  are  ghosts  which  we  enter¬ 
tained  when  we  first  began  to  be  pilgrims,  and  could 


Ilis  will. 


Ilis  last  words. 


DESPONDENCY,  MUCH-AFRAID,  AND  HONEST,  DEPART.  373 

never  shake  them  off  after ;  and  they  will  walk  about, 
and  seek  entertainment  of  the  pilgrims :  but  for  our 
sakes,  shut  the  (L/wr?  noon  them.  When  the  time  was 
come  for  them  to  depart,  they  went  up  to  the  brink  of 
the  river.  The  last  words  of  Mr.  Des¬ 
pondency  were,  Farewell,  night;  wel¬ 
come,  day !  His  daughter  went  through  the  river 
singing,  but  none  could  understand  what  she  said. 

Then  it  came  to  pass  a  while  after,  that  there  was  a 
post  in  the  town  that  inquired  for  Mr.  Honest.  So  lie 
came  to  the  house  where  he  was,  and  delivered  to  his 
hand  these  lines :  Thou  art  commanded  Mr.  Honest  sum- 
to  be  ready  against  this  day  sevenniglit,  moiied* 
to  present  thyself  before  thy  Lord,  at  his  Father’s 
house.  And  for  a  token  that  my  message  is  true,  “All 
the  daughters  of  music  shall  be  brought  low,”  Eccles. 
12  :  4.  Then  Mr.  Honest  called  for  his  friends,  and 
said  unto  them,  I  die,  but  shall  make  no 

3  3  .  He  makes  no  will. 

will.  As  for  my  honesty,  it  shall  go 
with  me ;  let  him  that  comes  after  be  told  of  this. 
When  the  day  that  he  was  to  be  gone  was  come,  he 
addressed  himself  to  go  over  the  river.  Now  the  river 
at  that  time  overflowed  its  banks  in  some  places;  but 
Mr.  Honest,  in  his  life-time,  had  spoken  Cood.conscience 
to  one  Good-conscience  to  meet  him  helps  Air.  Honest 
there,  the  which  he  also  did,  and  lent  over  tlie  llver' 
him  his  hand,  and  so  helped  him  over.  The  last  words 
of  Mr.  Honest  were,  Grace  reigns !  So  he  left  the 
world. 

After  this  it  was  noised  abroad  that  Mr.  Valiant- for- 
truth  was  sent  for  by  a  summons,  by  the  Mr.  Vniiart-for- 
same  post  as  the  other,  and  had  this  for  trut!l  summoue<1- 
a  token  that  the  summons  was  true,  “  That  his  pitcher 
■was  broken  at  the  fountain,”  Eccles.  12  :  6.  When  he 


His  will. 


His  last  words. 


374  VALIANT-FOR-TRUTH,  AND  STANDFAST’S  LAST  WORDS. 

understood  it,  he  called  for  his  friends,  and  told  them 
of  it.  Then  said  he,  I  am  going  to  my  Father’s ;  and 
though  with  great  difficulty  I  hr*e  got  hither,  yet  now 
I  do  not  repent  me  of  all  the  trouble  I  have  been  at  to 
arrive  where  I  am.  My  sword  I  give  to  him  that  shall 
succeed  me  in  my  pilgrimage,  and  my 
courage  and  skill  to  him  that  can  get  it. 
My  marks  and  scars  I  carry  with  me,  to  be  a  witness 
for  me  that  I  have  fought  His  battles  who  will  now  be 
my  re  warder.  When  the  day  that  he  must  go  hence 
was  come,  many  accompanied  him  to  the  river-side, 
into  which  as  he  went,  he  said,  “  Death,  where  is  thy 
sting  ?”  And  as  he  went  down  deeper,  he 
said,  “  Grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?  1 
Cor.  15  :  55.  So  he  passed  over,  and  all  the  trumpets 
rounded  for  him  on  the  other  side. 

Then  there  came  forth  a  summons  for  Mr.  Standfast. 

Mr.  standfast  This  Mr.  Standfast  was  he  whom  the 
summoned.  pilgrims  found  upon  his  knees  in  the 

Enchanted  Ground.  And  the  post  brought  it  him  open 
in  his  hands ;  the  contents  whereof  were,  that  he  must 
prepare  for  a  change  of  life,  for  his  Master  was  not 
willing  that  he  should  be  so  far  from  him  any  longer. 
At  this  Mr.  Standfast  was  put  into  a  muse.  Nay,  said 
the  messenger,  you  need  not  doubt  of  the  truth  of  my 
message;  for  here  is  a  token  of  the  truth  thereof: 
“  Thy  wheel  is  broken  at  the  cistern,”  Eccles.  12  :  6. 

He  calls  for  Mr.  Then  he  called  to  him  Mr.  Great-heart, 
Great-heart.  who  was  their  guide,  and  said  unto  him, 
Sir,  although  it  was  not  my  hap  to  be  much  in  your  good 
company  in  the  days  of  my  pilgrimage,  yet,  since  the 
time  I  knew  you,  you  have  been  profit¬ 
able  to  me.  When  I  came  from  home. 


His  speech  to  him. 


I  left  behind  me  a  wife  and  five  small  children ;  let  me 


standfast’s  address  from  the  river. 


375 


entreat  you,  at  your  return,  (for  I  know  that  you  go 
and  return  to  your  Master’s  house,  in  hopes  that  you 
may  yet  be  a  conductor  to  more  of  the  holy  pilgrims,) 
that  you  send  to  my  family,  and  let  them  be  acquainted 
with  all  that  hath  and  shall  happen  unto  His  errand  to  his 
me.  Tell  them  moreover  of  my  present  family* 
blessed  condition,  and  of  my  happy  arrival  at  the  Ce¬ 
lestial  City.  Tell  them  also  of  Christian  and  Chris¬ 
tiana  his  wife,  and  how  she  and  her  children  came 
after  her  husband.  Tell  them  also  what  a  happy  end 
she  made,  and  whither  she  is  gone.  I  have  little  or 
nothing  to  send  to  my  family,  unless  it  be  my  prayers 
and  tears  for  them ;  of  which  it  will  suffice  that  you 
acquaint  them,  if  peradventure  they  may  prevail. 
When  Mr.  Standfast  had  thus  set  things  in  order,  and 
the  time  being  come  for  him  to  haste  him  away,  he 
also  went  down  to  the  river.  Now  there  was  a  great 
calm  at  that  time  in  the  river ;  wherefore  Mr.  Standfast, 
when  he  was  about  half  way  in,  stood  a  while,  and 
talked  to  his  companions  that  had  waited  upon  him 
thither.  And  he  said,  This  river  has  been  H.g  ^  woidg 
a  terror  to  many ;  yea,  the  thoughts  of  it 
also  have  often  frightened  me;  but  now  methinks  I 
stand  easy;  my  foot  is  fixed  upon  that  on  which  the 
feet  of  the  priests  that  bare  the  ark  of  the  covenant 
stood  while  Israel  went  over  Jordan,  Josh.  3  :  17.  The 
waters  indeed  are  to  the  palate  bitter,  and  to  the 
stomach  cold ;  yet  the  thoughts  of  what  I  am  going  to, 
and  of  the  convoy  that  wait  for  me  on  the  other  side, 
lie  as  a  glowing  coal  at  my  heart.  I  see  myself  now 
at  the  end  of  my  journey  ;  my  toilsome  days  are  ended. 
I  am  going  to  see  that  head  which  was  crowned  with 
thorns,  and  that  face  which  was  spit  upon  for  me.  I 
have  formerly  lived  by  hearsay  and  faith ;  but  now  I 


376  the  author’s  farewell. 

go  where  I  shall  live  by  sight,  and  shall  be  with  Him 
in  whose  company  I  delight  myself.  I  have  loved  to 
hear  my  Lord  spoken  of;  and  wherever  I  have  seen 
the  print  of  his  shoe  in  the  earth,  there  I  have  coveted 
to  set  my  foot  too.  His  name  has  been  to  me  a  civet- 
box;  yea,  sweeter  than  all  perfumes.  His  voice  to  me 
has  been  most  sweet,  and  his  countenance  I  have  moie 
desired  than  they  that  have  most  desired  the  light  of 
the  sun.  His  words  I  did  use  to  gather  for  my  food, 
and  for  antidotes  against  my  faintings.  He  has  held 
me,  and  hath  kept  me  from  mine  iniquities;  yea,  my 
steps  have  been  strengthened  in  his  way. 

Now  while  he  was  thus  in  discourse  his  countenance 
changed ;  his  strong  man  bowed  under  him  :  and  after 
he  had  said,  Take  me,  for  I  come  unto  thee,  he  ceased 
to  be  seen  of  them. 

But  glorious  it  was  to  see  how  the  upper  region  was 
filled  with  horses  and  chariots,  with  trumpeters  and 
pipers,  with  singers  and  players  on  stringed  instru¬ 
ments,  to  welcome  the  pilgrims  as  they  went  up,  and 
followed  one  another  in  at  the  beautiful  gate  of  tne 
city. 

As  for  Christiana’s  children,  the  four  boys  that 
Christiana  brought,  with  their  wives  and  children,  I 
did  not  stay  where  I  was  till  they  were  gone  over. 
Also  since  I  came  away,  I  heard  one  say  that  they 
were  yet  alive,  and  so  would  be  for  the  increase  of  the 
church,  in  that  place  where  they  were,  for  a  time. 

Should  it  be  my  lot  to  go  that  way  again,  I  may 
give  those  that  desire  it  an  account  of  what  I  here  am 
silent  about :  meantime  I  bid  my  reader 

FAREWELL. 


THE  END. 


Date  Due 


PRINTED 


IN  U.  S.  A. 


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